


The Lo'chin

by Fiona James (Bluewolf458), raynewton



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Fiona%20James, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/raynewton
Summary: The Enterprise is en route to Vulcan, where Kirk and Spock plan to bond... but there are two men on board who want to prevent this.





	The Lo'chin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to The Lorath by Ray Newton (http://archiveofourown.org/works/12188535) and first appeared in Naked Times 4/5

The Lo'chin

by Ray and Sandy Newton

aka Ray Newton and Fiona James

McCoy chewed the end of his stylus reflectively. Neither Jim nor Spock were showing any signs of ill effects from their sojourn into Vulcan's savage past, though Spock had been ill to start with. Come to think of it, McCoy knew he must begin compiling his notes for the inevitable inquiry which must come soon - but... that cut - barely more than a scratch and almost healed... running across the chests of both men...

Jim had dismissed his enquiring glance with a casual, "A warrior rite." And that was another puzzle. There seemed to be a lot of gaps in Jim's account of what had happened. All right, he had been captured by a slaver, bought by Spock; heavily drugged by kothar he had failed to recognize

Spock's voice - that was hardly surprising. McCoy had come across mention of kothar in his extraterrestrial studies. A mind-weakening drug, the secret of its exact composition lost sometime during the Reform period, it was quickly addictive, its victims obedient to any decisive command. The addiction could be broken relatively easily, however, unlike many other of the addictive drugs known throughout the Federation, by a few days' abstinence, but during the withdrawal period - always unpleasant - and for some days thereafter, the victim's mind was still slightly clouded even though he thought himself thinking completely clearly. It was no wonder that Jim had failed to recognize Spock's voice, further muffled by the veil, and with Spock also making a positive attempt to disguise himself, especially since, at that time, Jim had believed the Vulcan to be dead.

Once Jim had recognized Spock, the Vulcan had, for some reason only vaguely specified as a wish to see Jim free, managed to get him accepted as a Warrior; but the requirement for that was to kill a le-matya single-handed. So what was the significance of that scratch, stretching from nipple to nipple, on both men?

All right, he didn't expect Spock to spill any beans, but he would have expected Jim to be more forthcoming. Come to think of it, he would have expected Jim to come see him tonight; to share a drink and tell him a few things about pre-Reform Vulcan, probably prefaced by a 'Don't tease Spock about it'. But he hadn't. McCoy had gone in search of him, but he wasn't in his cabin - and no one had seen him since he came off duty. A suspicion that he had gone to Spock's quarters had proved unfounded; there was no answer to his buzz on that door either... So where was he?

 

***

 

At that moment, he was lying in Spock's arms, regaining his breath in the rapturous aftermath of an overwhelming orgasm. They had heard the buzzer quite clearly while they were still at a stage when they could have stopped - but how could they have found a logical reason for their total nudity? And so, knowing that, if the matter was urgent, whoever it was would have tried to contact them by the intercom, they ignored the summons.

Kirk rolled over to lie at Spock's side, a possessive arm across his chest, one leg draped over the Vulcan's thigh. "Happy?" he asked softly.

"Mmmm. I never dared to dream that such joy could be mine."

"Me either." He nuzzled the Vulcan's neck. "Spock... "

"Yes, Jim?"

"You never did explain to me... That orgy, the first night Seron and the Warriors joined us - when they dined in our tent, you said it would be a breach of privacy if it happened there. Why wasn't it always a breach of privacy?"

"It was a gesture of trust on the first night," Spock explained slowly. "A warrior in that... position... is vulnerable. By participating - or appearing to - all present indicated that they trusted their fellow Warriors. You noticed that several Warriors took their loraths away even before we left?"

Kirk nodded. "Yes."

"They had also merely simulated the act, not through a lack of trust, but because of a preference for privacy. However, all were aroused, and left quickly in order to continue the... intimacy... in private. Those who truly participated, though honourable Warriors, were men of lesser breeding."

"It must have been difficult for you," Kirk murmured. "Since you thought I didn't know, pretending like that and still managing to control yourself... I know I didn't; I was starting to... arouse. That's why I pretended that I'd been... satisfied."

"I was grateful that you did, Jim, for I could not have maintained control much longer. I wanted so much to forget control, to permit myself to caress you as I longed to do... I wanted to taste your mouth - 'to slake my thirst with your kisses', for I burned for you... "  His lips brushed Kirk's temple. "Fortunately, I no longer have to maintain control - here, in this bed, where there is no one to see the power you hold over me, my bondmate."

Kirk moaned softly in anticipation, and raised his hips invitingly. "I burn, too, Spock... "

 

***

 

"Mornin', Jim. Hi, Spock." McCoy set down his breakfast tray as he joined his two friends at their table. Odd, that curious sensation he'd had that he'd been intruding... "Where were you last night, Jim?" he continued as he sat down.

Spock rose. "If you will excuse me, Captain, I am due on the bridge."

Kirk glanced up briefly. "I'll join you later - after I've spoken with Bones." He turned back to McCoy as the Vulcan left. "I just had a couple of things to discuss with Spock, that's all. We got... pretty involved."

"But where were you?" McCoy pressed., "I tried all the rec rooms, your quarters, Spock's; you'd just vanished."

"We were in Spock's cabin. We... er... we did hear the buzzer, but we didn't want to be interrupted. Look, Bones... I'll tell you all about it - I want you to be the first to know - but not here. Can we go to your office?"

"Hmmm." McCoy stood up, swallowing his coffee as his eyes narrowed, recognizing Kirk's uncharacteristic nervousness. "Come on, then. I've got nothing special lined up for this morning and I'd appreciate the company."

 

***

 

In the Chief Surgeon's office, Kirk prowled restlessly, finally stopping to pick up and examine one of McCoy's collection of skulls as though he'd never seen it before.

"Well, Jim?" McCoy's voice was calm, but apprehension prickled along his nerves at the delaying tactics his friend was employing.

"I... uh, well... " Kirk flung himself down into a chair behind the desk. "Funny - I didn't think I'd find this embarrassing, but now that it comes to the point... I told you I was trained and sold as a lorath - and that Spock bought me just in time."

"You did."

"Yes, but I didn't tell you what a lorath was. Vulcan customs... well, they're not the same as Human, you know that, and we were quite a way back into the past - where some of those customs were very common. For example," he added, noting McCoy's confused expression, "Warriors never touched women. They always mated with other men - usually a bed-slave they kept for that purpose. Those slaves were known as... loraths."

McCoy swallowed. "Are you trying to tell me that Spock... ? I don't believe it!" He felt himself turning crimson.

"Just listen," Kirk snapped, "and don't interrupt. I'd been heavily drugged with kothar, and Segon exerted a form of mind control... " His eyes fell. "When I was sold, he... ordered me to... offer myself to my master... and I... did."

"What!?"

"Oh, don't worry," Kirk quickly covered. "Spock refused me. I didn't know then that he was Spock, of course... He weaned me off the drug - that's very important, Bones, because what happened next... I want you to know that I was thinking clearly."

McCoy hesitated a long time before asking, "What did happen?"

"I found out... why he ran," Kirk admitted.

"But we knew that," the doctor pointed out. "He was confused, still feverish - "

"It was more than that. He ran because he thought he'd betrayed himself, and he was afraid of reaction. You see, Bones... he loves... me."

"Jim," McCoy protested, "you can't be serious! He's a Vulcan!"

Kirk ignored the interruption. "I also found out - rather unexpectedly, I must admit - that I'm in love with him, too. I told him - I couldn't help it. If anything had happened, and I hadn't spoken... " He let the sentence trail off.

"Go on, Jim," McCoy prompted quietly when Kirk hesitated.

"Very well... " Kirk drew himself up and smiled suddenly, his eyes very tender as he remembered that scene in Spock's tent. "He'd... wanted me for so long, and never revealed by word or gesture that I was anything more than his captain... and his friend. I knew he'd take me as his lover, that he'd be mine, because he was finally convinced that was what I wanted... but it wasn't enough, not for Spock. He's seen me 'in love' so often, and seen passion turn to indifference... Even Edith - I did love her, Bones, but now I can barely remember what she looked like. He'd never had anyone, and I'd been with so many... but I knew this time it was for life. I wanted it to be... special... from the beginning, to show him this wasn't just another of my... affairs. So I asked him to bond us. If he took my mind as well as my body, he'd know that he was special to me, that I wanted him for the rest of my life and beyond." Now that he'd finally started to open up, the words came more easily. "He took me as bondmate by the Warriors' rite, and for the first time in my life, I'm completely content... happy." Kirk stirred again, meeting the keen blue eyes with wistful pride. "I've set course for Vulcan so we can be bonded again by modern usage; I didn't think Starfleet would accept a five-thousand-year old ceremony." He paused for a moment, looking at McCoy, waiting for an answer.

When it came, it wasn't the one he'd expected. "Jim," McCoy began quietly, "I'd like you to come into Sickbay for a checkup."

"Checkup?" Kirk stared blankly. "Bones, you checked me out not twenty-four hours ago!"

"Yes," the doctor admitted. "Physically, you're fine; but I want to run a check on your mental patterns - "

Kirk wasn't sure whether to feel angry or hurt or amused by McCoy's attitude. "You think I'm unbalanced?"

McCoy hedged. "Well, you've had a pretty traumatic experience. "I should have checked yesterday for shock, but... well, I reckon I was a bit startled myself, what with the way you were dressed. I want to check Spock, too," he added almost as an afterthought. "After all, he wasn't well when he left."

The smile faded from Kirk's eyes. "Bones, that sounds... as my friend.. - "

"As your friend, you've just given me the biggest shock of my life. But as your Chief Medical Officer... I'm giving you an order." His tone hardened slightly. "Please don't make me quote regulations, Jim."

Stunned, Kirk rose and followed McCoy into the examination room, where he submitted to the battery of tests with no further protest. They had just been completed when there came an interruption; the door opened, and Nurse Chapel's voice could be heard.

"Mister Spock, you can't go in! The doctor is - "

"The doctor is, as usual, interfering in matters which are no concern of his." Still controlled there was nevertheless a tremor in Spock's voice.

"Doctor, shall I call Security or the Captain?"

"It's all right, Nurse," McCoy responded. "The Captain is here, and there's no need for Security. You may go; I'll handle this."

Spock paid no attention to anything or anyone else; he strode across the room to Kirk, lightly touching his shoulder. "I sensed your distress, Jim." He turned to the doctor, eyes concealing fire. "Doctor, if you have dared - "

"It's all right, Spock," Kirk said a trifle bitterly. "McCoy thinks we've lost our minds. Let's humour him, okay? Take his tests; there's nothing he can do."

McCoy took a step forward. "Jim, believe me, I'm not some heartless monster intent on destroying your happiness - or yours, Spock.        But I am the Chief Medical Officer, and it's my duty to be sure that neither of you is acting under any form of duress."

"I told you - " Kirk began, but McCoy silenced him with a raised hand.

"You told me you'd been systematically fed a drug which renders even Vulcans pliable and weak-willed; that you were subjected to mind control, and very efficiently trained as - forgive me, Jim - a male whore, to the extent that you couldn't prevent yourself from making homosexual advances to a stranger. For your own sake, I have to assume you might have been under the influence of kothar still when you... went to Spock."

"And if the tests are clear, you'll be satisfied?" Kirk demanded coldly.

"No," was the unanticipated reply. "There's still another possibility."

"And that is?"

"That Spock, by your own admission, wanting you so desperately, seized his opportunity and took control of your mind, making you think you want the bonding."

"Doctor, how dare you:" Kirk stepped forward defensively. "Don't you ever insult Spock again if you want to - "

"Jim," Spock interjected, "the possibility exists." His voice had an instantly calming effect an Kirk, who stared in bewilderment, raw pain in his eyes.

"You and I know what we found on Vulcan, Jim," Spock continued quietly. "McCoy does not. He will not be the only one to think that I... trapped you with the power of my mind, seduced you with my own longings. It is my greatest pride that you chose me over all others - I would proclaim your trust in me to all who may doubt."

"As you chose me and loved me while I was still blind," Kirk remembered quietly. He turned back to McCoy, raising his chin slightly. "Very well. Complete your tests, Bones. We have nothing to hide."

 

***

 

Captain and first officer waited for McCoy to reappear from his lab. He seemed to have been gone an inordinately long time... Spock looked rather tense to his bondmate's watchful eye, and Kirk thought he could guess why. The slightest inconsistency with their records, and McCoy would start screaming medical blue murder to prevent them bonding, not realizing that both of them considered the Warriors' Oath completely binding in itself. Kirk himself was more confident, knowing he had made his commitment with open eyes.

The office door slid open at last and McCoy emerged. Face stern, he crossed to look down at them. Spock became even more rigid.

"Well, gentlemen, I've compared your present mental patterns with those on record, and I can detect no difference - " His control cracked, and he grinned at them. "I can only say, since it's what you both want, and I can guarantee you're both in full possession of your senses - my sincere congratulations."

"Thanks, Bones," Kirk said happily. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Spock relax.

"Sorry about this," McCoy apologized, "but I wanted to be sure you both knew what you were doing. I'd have hated either of you to be hurt."

"It's all right," Kirk murmured. "You have your job to do, too."

McCoy sobered. "What about the crew?" he asked. "Are you going to tell them?"

"Yes," Kirk admitted. "It's only right that they should know - give any of them who aren't comfortable with the idea the chance to transfer off."

"I don't think many will," McCoy said thoughtfully. "They all think highly of both of you." At the same time, an uncomfortable thought entered his mind. Christine. What would she say? Spock had never encouraged her, but McCoy knew too well how much his head nurse loved the Vulcan.

The same thought had obviously occurred to Kirk and Spock, but it was the Vulcan who put it into words. "What of Nurse Chapel? I believe she should be told privately - before she hears it as ship's gossip."

"Yes," Kirk agreed. "I certainly wouldn't want it to come to her that way." He turned to the Vulcan. "Do you want to tell her, Spock?"

Spock considered it momentarily. "If necessary, I will do so, but I think it best that I do not. I have tried to make the situation easier for her by avoiding personal contact as much as possible. I believe it would be painful for her to hear from my own lips that I have chosen another."

"Then I - "

"No, Jim," McCoy interrupted, shaking his head firmly. "You're her... 'rival', remember. It'd be worse coming from you than from anyone else. Let me tell her."

Kirk rose and smiled at his friend. "Thanks, Bones. "I'm glad you know and approve." He turned to the Vulcan. "Coming, Spock?"

"One moment, Jim."

Kirk glanced inquiringly at his bondmate, but the Vulcan's eyes were on McCoy's face. "Doctor, on Vulcan, I will take Jim as my Lo'chin... "

"Your what? Lo-a-hin?"

Spock sighed. "Your pronunciation is barbarous, but it will serve. Only Mister Scott seems able to produce the correct sound... Lo'chin is the term applied to a male bondmate - as 'Lorath' denotes a slave used for sexual relief, so Lo'chin denotes a sexual relationship between equals, or blood brothers. However, what I wished to say... it would please me, Doctor McCoy, if you would act as witness at the bonding."

"Uh, Spock... " McCoy hesitated and the Vulcan's eyes dropped.

In a suddenly formal tone, Spock continued. "I shall understand, of course, if you wish to refuse; such a ceremony is not a Human custom - "

"Spock, shut up!" McCoy interrupted gruffly. "I'd be pleased and honored, my friends." He smiled at the glow of pleasure in Kirk's eyes, then as the two of them turned to leave, a sudden imp of devilment made him add softly, "One thing, Jim - for god's sake, don't challenge!"

"I won't." Kirk smiled at his bondmate, and McCoy turned his head from the naked adoration in his friend's expressive eyes.

 

***

 

"Come." Kirk glanced toward the door as he gave the summons, glad for the excuse to abandon the interminable paperwork of routine reports for a few minutes.

McCoy entered. He looked rather tired, Kirk noted; odd, no emergency had arisen that he knew of.

"Well, Bones?" he asked cheerfully, waving his friend to a seat.

McCoy sank gratefully into it and came straight to the point. "I've told Christine about you and Spock, Jim."

"Oh." Kirk studied McCoy's face for a moment, reading the signs clearly now. It couldn't have been pleasant. "Thanks, Bones. How... how did she take it?"

McCoy let out a long breath. "Pretty well, all things considered. She's always known she had no chance, of course, but as long as there wasn't anyone else, she could always hope. Maybe it's kinder like this - once she's gotten over the initial shock, I think she might just realize that it was the best thing that could've happened, for it's set her free. But, Jim, she wants a transfer. I don't blame her. In her position... I did what she's doing: I got out. It still hurt, but I'd done something positive to help myself. Yes, I can understand why she wants to get away." It was only the second time McCoy had ever mentioned his broken marriage to Kirk.

"Yes... of course." It was the sensible thing for her to do, although Kirk knew the ship - and McCoy especially - would miss her. And it would be easier on Spock, too. Kirk knew only too well how guilty his companion felt about her. That he had never encouraged her, never given her any reason to hope, was little consolation. She was unhappy because of him; for a telepath, awareness of that suffering was unavoidable. "What reason will she give, Bones? We can't recommend her for promotion; what could she be promoted to from Head Nurse on a starship?"

"Transfer to a ground posting where she can improve her qualifications."

"Can she?" Kirk wondered, not entirely familiar with medical postings.

"Oh yes," McCoy returned. "She only needs one additional diploma and she can be appointed CMO an a survey ship."

Kirk's eyebrows shot upwards. "She's that well qualified?"

"Jim," McCoy pointed out, "she'd have been there now except for two things; Spock is one, and the other was Roger Corby."

"Corby? But... "

"She was already working for that diploma when Corby turned up missing. She transferred back to straight nursing then because it got her back into space on the ship that was going after him. Well, you know what happened there. She was badly hurt... maybe that's why she fell for Spock. At least he didn't offer her any empty promises like her Human boyfriend had. But you can't deny that, one way or another, her life has been pretty badly screwed up by the men in it."

Kirk was more cautious. "But if she's already tried and packed up that training - "

"Her reasons are an file. I don't see any particular problem, Jim, and of course I'll put in a good word for her."

Kirk nodded. "She'll want to leave as soon as possible, I suppose?"

"Yes."

Kirk sighed, sorry it was necessary, but more than understanding the reasons. "Give the appropriate file to Uhura and get her to transmit the transfer request to Starfleet. Nurse Chapel can leave the ship at Starbase Four if it's approved and get the routine shuttle back to Headquarters. Okay?"

McCoy nodded. "Thanks, Jim." He hesitated. "I know she should have made the request herself, but... well... "

"She'd rather not see me," Kirk deduced.

"She'd rather not see you," McCoy confirmed.

Closing his eyes, Kirk murmured, "Her rival... I don't blame her."

 

***

 

But she did see him. As big as the Enterprise was, it was still almost impossible to avoid another crew member completely; within forty-eight hours of that conversation, Kirk found himself sharing the turbolift with the ship's head nurse.  Not sure of what to say, he settled for "Good afternoon, Nurse Chapel."

"Captain." Curtly.

Within five seconds, the silence had become embarrassing, forcing him to speak again. "We'll be sorry to lose you, Nurse, but I wouldn't want to stand in the way of your career." He was far from sure if he'd even said the right thing; did Chapel know McCoy had told him her real reason?"

Apparently she did. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Why, Captain? Why you? You could have had any woman you wanted; you know you could! Why did you have to turn to him? I... I didn't ask for much. I knew he didn't - couldn't - love me. But as long as he didn't love anyone else, it didn't matter. I was happy just being able to love him... and... dream. Now I don't even have that."

Kirk pressed the emergency stop button and the lift slid to a halt between decks. "Did you love him, Christine?" Memory of something McCoy had said returned vividly. "Did you really love him - or did you just think you did? Dreams are an illusion, you know. In a dream, everything works out just the way you want. Spock never looked at any of the women, so he could never be unfaithful. You could dream of spending your nights with him, knowing the next day you wouldn't see him flirting with someone else. Not like Roger Corby... "

Chapel bit her lip thoughtfully. "Roger... I really loved him, Captain. And before he went away, he was faithful. I'm sure of that. But he changed... Could two androids make love?"

Kirk considered that. "I don't know, Christine," he responded truthfully. "Very advanced ones, possibly. That is a... refinement... that would probably be the last thing the designers would develop, unless they were a very decadent race. I think they wouldn't." He wasn't sure whether he believed that, or if he was just talking to reassure her.

"But even if he didn't make love with Andrea, she loved him. And he had programmed her. What is that but being unfaithful? I think I knew, as soon as I saw him, that he'd changed - that he didn't really love me any more. If only he'd said so, instead of pretending... "

"Perhaps he wasn't pretending," Kirk said quietly. "A lot cf men love their wives, but still need to feel themselves wanted by other women. It boosts their ego."

"Or sleep with other women?" she asked, an edge of bitterness creeping into her voice.

"Yes," Kirk admitted. "Even that. But it's usually just physical; it doesn't mean anything. They still love their wives."

"It hurts just the same - "

"And Corby hurt you through Andrea. So you turned, and on the rebound, you found Spock: Vulcan, unemotional, not interested in women... safe. You could dream, and not be hurt by reality, Christine. Tell me, if Spock had asked you to marry him, what would you have said?"

Pain crossed her face. "I... don't know."

"Think about it," Kirk said quietly. "And remember; you would have had to adopt Vulcan ways just as his mother did. Accept a Vulcan upbringing for your children if you chose to have any. Learn to hide your feelings. The Vulcans, as a whole, are pretty inflexible - they won't alter their lifestyle."

"You'll have to adapt, too, Captain."

"Yes," Kirk confessed, "but in a different way. In a Warrior Bonding, both partners are equal; neither is regarded as subordinate to the other as a Vulcan wife is often subordinate to her husband." He smiled wistfully. "It's one of their apparent lapses from logic, but it's true."

"But I still don't understand." She held back her tears. "Why you? Why a man? It's... it's a biological dead end."

"Christine, a hybrid of two vastly different genetic types is usually sterile; you're a nurse, you know that. And there's a high possibility that I am, too. I've had a lot of women in my time, and not all of them used contraceptives; yet I've never fathered a child. Once, I thought... but McCoy said it was a mistake. Miramanee wasn't pregnant. I've been thankful far that... And if both of us are sterile, wouldn't it be rather a waste for either of us to marry a woman? But to answer your other question, historically, back in pre-Reform times, Vulcan Warriors never touched a woman. Women were too much of a handicap for fighting men to have around, and during their fertile periods they could induce pon farr in the males, draining their strength - which they needed desperately for fighting. Not a vary pretty picture, but history sometimes isn't kind - " He paused. "Instead, the Warriors had special slaves - loraths - to provide them with sexual relief, most of whom were trained at least in the use of a sword. Particularly brave loraths could be given extra training to make them into full fighting slaves - Companions - who were their recognized mates. And a Companion could, if he proved himself skilled enough, become a Warrior himself. Then he and his former master could bond - and the Warriors' bonding was the most honored form of bonding that existed. Even today, male bonding is legal on Vulcan, and well-esteemed when it occurs. Spock and I were bonded as two Warriors. The nearest analogy would be from Ancient Greece," he continued, sensing her interest. "The Theban Sacred Band - mated warriors, all of whom preferred death in battle to surrender because surrender would disgrace their mate."

She remained silent for a long time. "I won't say I understand, Captain, because I don't," she said at last. "Even in Ancient Greece, a man had a wife as well as a male lover. I can't understand a normally heterosexual male like yourself accepting a purely homosexual relationship with Spock - " She hesitated as if the words didn't quite ring true. "Well, maybe, you say it's still a part of his culture, and he's not shown much interest in women - not even in T'Pring. But not... you."

"I can accept it because I love him," Kirk confessed quietly. "It's what I have to adapt to. Though I can't quite see myself settling down with any of the women I was ever attracted to, I can't envisage a life without Spock at my side. I'll still find women attractive - we both know that. In fact I'm subject to temptations Ancient Vulcan Warriors were spared, for they rarely saw a woman. The important thing is to control it." He paused, then went on. "If you really do love him, Christine, please accept that this is what he wants. And so do I."

Without waiting for an answer, he took his hand from the stop button, allowing the lift to move on, and left her at Deck 5.

Chapel stared after him until the closing door hid him from sight, and when the elevator continued on, she stared unblinkingly at the closed doors. She did not understand; but now she knew that Spock was acting according to his Vulcan heritage, not, as she had half-suspected, in answer to a purely human urge. And with that knowledge came the beginnings of an acceptance that there was nothing she could have done to win Spock. In battling so hard to overcome his Human blood, Spock had molded himself into the image of- his remote Vulcan ancestors, and in doing so, had ensured that his only possible sexual development was that of Vulcan's past.

And that also had to be the reason Spock had entered Starfleet instead of acceding to his father's wish that he attend the Vulcan Academy of Science. He had became a self-conditioned throwback to his own past, though trying to live up to his father's expectation, saved from savagery only by his training and the innate compassion that ruled so much of his life. And with that realization, Christine Chapel put herself beyond vain regrets.

 

***

 

Kirk paused at his cabin door, hesitated, then moved on down the corridor to Spock's quarters and went in.

Spock glanced up from his desk as the door hissed open, knowing, even without the mental awareness of Kirk that he no longer needed to control, that only his bondmate would come into his cabin without using the intercom first. His eyes smiled a welcome as Kirk moved over to him; his arms wrapped around the human's waist, drawing him close.

Mmmm." Kirk returned the embrace, pressing Spock's head to his chest. After a minute, he pulled back a little. "Busy?"

"Routine," Spock answered. "I am almost finished - then I am due in the lab. One of the experiments is giving unexpected readings, and I want to check it."

Kirk nodded. "I won't delay you," he promised, "but I wanted to tell you... You know Bones told Chris Chapel about us? I just ran into her.     I... had to tell her a bit about old Vulcan customs; I think she's beginning to understand now...  At least I think she's accepted it. It may take a month or two, but I think she's about ready to start concentrating on the future, with some hope for a new life."

Spock seemed to sigh in relief. "I am glad of that, Jim," he admitted. "I would not have wanted to be responsible for ruining her life."

Kirk felt the pain of that. "You never asked to have her love you, Spock."

"Even so, Jim... "

"Spock, we all have that sort of experience, of loving with no hope of reciprocation, or of being loved then we can't respond." He tilted the Vulcan's chin up. "You know that, Spock. Why else did you go back through the Guardian?"

"Yes," Snuck murmured. "But you followed me... and I discovered that I was wrong."

"But how long did you exist with the belief that you were right, and that I couldn't love you the way you wanted?"

Spock flushed. "A long time... longer than I was aware of, I think."

Kirk nodded his understanding. "But you managed to live with it - "

"Only because you did not know," Spock pointed out. "It was when I realized that I would inevitably betray myself - indeed, I feared I  already done so - and embarrass you with the knowledge, that I left."

"If Christine had never been affected by that virus, she probably never would have told you either - it troubles you only because you know."

Stock conceded. "That is probably true, Jim. Yet how can understanding why I cannot love her help her to... overcome her feelings for me?"

"To be candid, I don't think she ever did really love you, although she probably thought she did." He stooped, hoping he didn't sound arrogant, but there was truth in his statements. "Corby betrayed her trust; she was badly hurt by that affair, and undoubtedly wanted to avoid being hurt again. So... she looked for the safest person around that she could 'love'. And that was you - who never locked at women. You would be 'faithful' in that she would never see you paying attention to anyone else, although you paid her no attention either. She was running away from emotional involvement, and for a Human, that's bad. And then you found yourself a bondmate - the most unlikely candidate on the ship - James T.-for-Tomcat-Kirk, with a galaxy-wide reputation as a womanizer; that was what bothered her most, Spock - that you turned to me - another man - and even more, that I should accept you when, in her words, I could have had any woman I wanted - "

Smock smiled slightly. "I can understand how she feels about that, Jim. You were only interested in women, they fell over themselves, as McCoy would put it, to have you notice them... and you were never reluctant to do so. Yet... you never offered marriage to any of them except Miramanee."

"I don't know what I would have done any other time, but I've thought about it since, and I think part of the reason was because of the amnesia... " He let the sentence die away.

"Yes... In your right mind, I was the one you chose, Jim, against all logic... You offered me more than I would ever have dared to ask... "

"Because I love you, Spock." He lowered his head until his lips brushed the Vulcan's upturned mouth. Then, resolutely, he straightened. "We've both got work to do. Until tonight - "

 

***

 

Security Lieutenant Orem glanced around as he headed toward the restricted corridor leading to the drainage controls of the matter anti-matter nacelles. As senior officer of the third shift, he had clearance, of course, but felt it would be better, considering the reason for his visit, if he remained unnoticed. It was, after all, only halfway through the second shift, and he was officially off duty - but the man he wanted to) see was on second shift, and Orem, with a healthy regard for his own skin in spite of the demands occasionally made on him by his sincerely-held religious beliefs, did not want it remembered that he had been seen in the company of Technician Second Class Dron.

Ensign Dron was currently checking the antimatter drainage control, a task he performed daily at this time with the meticulous accuracy of a     not-very-bright-but-conscientious man who had learned to do everything by rote. Orem had timed his visit so that Dron would he finished and about to move on to his next task as he arrived.

Sure enough, as Orem rounded the corner, the technician straightened, marked his clipboard, turned from the controls - and halted when he saw his senior officer.

Orem stopped a full yard from the technician. He knew the man as a conscientious worker, but even so, Dron was an unsavory-looking specimen: weedy and unprepossessing. Only influence had gotten him into Starfleet - the influence of a small but surprisingly powerful group little known outside its own circle - operating solely for the welfare of one of its members.

At this moment, however, Orem was glad of Dron's existence, for the Enterprise had proven to be barren ground for the lieutenant's brand of bigoted religion - Spock was too well liked for anyone preaching the 'purity of the race' to get a hearing.

It was not that the little-known sect to which Orem and Dron belonged was prejudiced against aliens as such; children of the Creator, they had their place and purpose in the Universe, and might even be greeted as brothers if they showed willingness to learn. One of the sect's strictest taboos, however, was against mixed marriage, whether Human/Alien, or between humans of different races; such a mixture was clearly against the wish of the Creator, or why else had he permitted such differences in his children?

Until he came to the Enterprise, Orem had had no experience of a Human/Alien halfbreed, and in many ways, he had learned to respect Spock's competence and undoubted ability. What Orem could not condone was that the first officer did not even possess the decency to accept that he was inferior; he thought himself as good as any man on the ship. And now - Orem shuddered with revulsion at the thought - that halfbreed had dared - dared - to turn his lecherous eyes onto a full-blood, and another male at that, to satisfy his lust! It was unthinkable... Kirk must have been seduced, trapped by the power of the halfbreed's mind, lured somehow into the degraded relationship. Even to imagine such a perversion was an insult to the Creator; it was, Orem considered, his duty to prevent it.

And here to his hand, a fitting tool, was Dron... one of the Brotherhood, as lowly in its ranks as he was on the ship... but loyal and expendable... as any of the Brotherhood could be.

"Greetings, Brother Dron," Orem began.

It took Dron's mind a moment to change gears. "Greetings, sir... er... Elder."

"We have a duty to perform, Brother."

Dron stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then his face cleared. "Mister Spock, Elder?"

"Yes indeed, Brother Dron. His very existence is a crime against moral decency, and now he seeks to ensnare the captain in his web of foul perversion. It is our duty to save Kirk from eternal damnation, and since it is clear that mere words will not suffice, we must use more... permanent methods. The halfbreed must die." Orem's voice was cold.

"But how, Elder? Halfbreed though he is, he has Vulcan strength, Vulcan awareness... "

"Therefore we must use stealth. We must trap this god-hating abomination where neither his strength nor his awareness can save him... seek out or create a situation where even he cannot survive."

"Murder, Elder?" Dron's conscientious mind struggled with the concept.

"Justice, Brother Dron.   He seeks to corrupt the innocent - the pure-blooded."

"But if we're caught... the law... "

"The secular authorities have also been corrupted by weaklings too cowardly to adhere to the word of the Creator. Remember - by doing this you will gain merit in the eyes of the Brotherhood - and in the eyes of god."

"I will - but, Elder... " Dron glanced around nervously.

"What opportunity would I have to arrange an accident, Brother Dron?" Orem asked logically. "We have only until the Enterprise reaches Vulcan. Once the bonding is accomplished, we cannot save Kirk. His soul will be lost - and we - we - the sworn servants of the Creator, will be accounted equally guilty. It must be done, Younger Brother, and soon."

Dron licked his suddenly dry lips. The altered address told him clearly that Orem was invoking the discipline of the Brotherhood. He had no alternative but to obey. Dron had never seriously believed that he would ever have to uphold half-understood dogma of the Brotherhood; he, or rather his parents, had thought to obtain for him the benefits of membership by offering lip-service to its creed, descended in devious ways from such organizations as the Ku Klux Klan; the basic tenet of that creed, the fundamental belief on which it stood was - mixed marriage was an offense to God, whether the mixture was black and white, yellow and white, yellow and black... or Human and Alien. It was also an advocate of the joyless creed that sex was evil, to be indulged in for the sole purpose of procreation. In that, at least, the Brotherhood fully respected the Vulcans, whose normal lack of interest in the matter was proverbial.

But Spock... Dron had had little to do with the first officer. His own immediate head of department was Lieutenant Commander Scott, and he had had no occasion, since he was a painstaking if uninspired worker, to be seen by the first officer or - horror of horrors - the captain. Dron did not want that kind of notice. Spock...

How could he arrange an 'accident' for the first officer? Quite apart from the difficulty of it - anything a technician second class could think up, a science officer would probably be able to detect. Spock was... was... was half of the reason the Enterprise was the best ship in the fleet, even though he was a halfbreed. And how could he not arrange an accident for the first officer? It was his duty to the Brotherhood. Even with Orem, his superior in the Faith, to order it, it was his positive duty to dispose of this breach of racial purity... although he did not quite understand why. Spock was intelligent, capable, a good first officer... why should he suddenly deserve death now, when Orem had never thought to give such an order before? He was even, according to Dron's simple philosophy, acting quite responsibly with bonding with another male; he would not pass on his undesirable mongrel heritage to another generation; and what was wrong with a little mutual masturbation such as Dron and his roommate often indulged in? It harmed no one. He knew that the Brotherhood would not approve, but instilled even deeper into his mind by a family tragedy was the knowledge that what he did was better than taking the risk of leaving a girl pregnant. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what Orem did about his own needs... though, as a Brotherhood Elder, he probably did remain celibate, difficult though that was.

Orem waited with growing impatience for Dron's answer.

Finally, "It will not be easy, Elder, for the halfbreed is cunning. I will try to - "

"Do not tell me," Orem warned, satisfied in his own mind that Dron's delay in answering was merely due to his thinking of a method. "The less I know, the safer it will be - for both of us. I must remain clear of all suspicion, so that I may aid you should it be necessary - though it will not," he hastily added. "As I am in the Security section, it will be easy for me to keep track of the investigation. Yes... I would advise you, make the halfbreed's death seem accidental... if possible."

"Yes, Elder," Dron agreed, grateful that Orem had not wanted details; as yet he had only a vague generalization to offer.

"As soon as possible," Orem said firmly.

"Of course, Elder."

Orem left, satisfied; Dron continued his interrupted routine, uneasily aware of the responsibility so squarely - and unexpectedly - laid on his shoulders. Once an Elder had given direct orders, no excuses were ever accepted for failure. If Spock did not die, Dron could expect - at best - to be expelled from the Brotherhood. And with the loss of its protection would also come the loss of his position - these things were known - and there was little employment anywhere for a Starfleet technician dishonourably discharged. At worst...

It was better not to think of that...

 

***

 

Kirk sat back in his chair, half of his mind on the routine reports he had to complete, the other half occupying itself by 'watching' Spock at work in the Science Lab. Through the link, he was at least partially aware of what Spock was doing; although it was almost totally reliable, inventive minds in Starfleet were continually trying to develop improvements to the transporter. Spock was currently looking for a way to improve transporter efficiency during ion-charged periods, not always fully developed ion storms, which interfered with the normal working of the circuitry. The experimentation was more dangerous than Kirk liked, for it involved working with machinery saturated with an electric charge. Spock wore full insulation, but Kirk was never quite happy while his bondmate worked there. And since, for the last few days, Spock had reported 'unexpected' readings, Kirk was aware of a certain tension. He remained in the background of Spock's mind, not wanting to distract the Vulcan, but too worried to withdraw his consciousness to the normal distance where the link was nothing more than a warm awareness of the other.

Spock checked over the equipment carefully, methodically. He was more than halfway through when, without warning, a vivid spark shot from the machinery to his outstretched hand, throwing him backward.

Kirk was on his feet instantly, feeling the agonizing tinge of a severe electrical shock and the pain in Spock's body as it hit the wall. "Spock!" He checked himself on the first stride, pausing to punch the intercom. "Bridge to Sickbay. Bones, get up to the lab fast; Spock's just had a severe shock!" Then he was moving, his feet taking him toward his bondmate without his conscious volition. There was no reply to his urgent mental query; he knew Spock was unconscious.

Quick though Kirk was, McCoy was on the scene first, for Sickbay was closer to the lab. Kirk skidded through the door to find the surgeon bent over the unconscious Vulcan, hands busy. After, a moment, he looked up into Kirk's worried face.

"He'll be okay," he assured the other man comfortingly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Kirk thought about it for only a second. "The electricity sparked over to him... but it shouldn't have," he added. "Spock was fully insulated... "

"I tore my glove just before," Spock put in weakly as he struggled back to awareness. He paused for a moment to acknowledge the relief in Kirk's mind, overwhelming through the bond.

"That alone shouldn't have been too serious," McCoy said. "Even with that, you should have been protected by your boots... "

A horrible suspicion entered Kirk's mind. He leaned down impulsively to look at the soles of the Vulcan's boots. "Bones... "

A small metal disc was adhering to the sole of the left boot. McCoy reached out to pry it off. The metal point had pierced the boot to a depth of about a quarter of an inch.

"More than enough to let the electrical discharge go through your body, Spock." McCoy sounded very subdued.

"But... where did it come from?" Kirk took the tiny metal artifact from McCoy and examined it curiously. "And what is it?"

"It was called by various names in the past," Spock said, examining it carefully. He sounded almost his usual self, but Kirk could sense through the link the effort that was going into controlling shock. "Tack, drawing pin... It was commonly used to fasten notices to boards. Mister Sulu has a boxful in his collection of Terran historical trivia - he was exhibiting it in the rec roam earlier today. I paused for a brief inspection, then moved on. It is perfectly possible that one fell to the floor and I accidentally stood on it."

Kirk held out his hand, and when Spock took it, pulled him easily to his feet. "That small piece of trivia nearly killed you," he remarked nervously.

"It would have been relatively harmless had I not been so careless as to tear my glove," Spock pointed out. "I will be more careful for the remainder of my shift... "

"Remainder of what shift?" McCoy snapped. "Your next stop is Sickbay, Spock, and that's a medical order!"

 

***

 

Orem heard of the accident in the lab with well-concealed frustration. The trick was cleverer than he would have expected Dron to produce, and it had nearly worked. At least Dron was showing a certain skill in assassination; next time should prove more profitable in results.

In Engineering, Dron heard about the accident and breathed a sigh of relief. Orem would never realize that it had been a genuine accident, and it would cover up his own lack of progress. One half-hearted attempt to sabotage the life-support to Spock's quarters had been enough to prove to Dron his utter inability to tamper with the circuits; he could check readouts, perform routine minor maintenance repairs, but a Technician Second Class he would remain.

Meanwhile, chance had given him some breathing space. He had no illusions as to the extent of Elder Orem's displeasure when - if - he failed, but he could always lay claim to a nearly-successful attempt. Not that it would excuse failure, but it might persuade the Brotherhood to let him off relatively lightly. Might. He shuddered. What could he do?

 

***

 

Ensign Araram whistled softly to himself as he headed for the Science Lab. He was feeling particularly cheerful; he was due off-duty in half an hour - just as soon as he'd checked Old Stoneface's current experiment readouts and reported to him - and his girl had finally said yes. Granted, they'd only have a couple of hours - she couldn't expect her roommate to stay lost all night - but even so... The cheerful whistle intensified as he reached the door.

It died as he saw the figure in red Engineering overalls lying there. The equipment Araram had come to check was sitting mute, inoperative. A black mark on it showed where it had sparked before the automatic cut-out operated. Araram rolled the body over. There was a grimace of agony on the rat-like face; one hand was blackened, badly burned. The man was clearly dead.

The hapless Ensign cursed his luck. Off duty in a half hour? By the time the Old Man and McCoy had finished checking this one out, he'd be lucky to get away in under several hours! The only thing that could have been worse was Old Stoneface investigating something that might endanger the Old Man. They'd always been like that, even before they had... bonded? Well, that was the Vulcan's term, and the Human 'married' sure sounded wrong! Now, he guessed, it'd be a hundred times worse...

 

***

 

Security Lieutenant Orem sat in the rec roam chewing reflectively at a thumbnail, unaware that his abstracted pose was earning him a great deal of attention. At least the inquiry had gone off smoothly; "Accidental Death," the Security Chief had reported - though no one would guess what had induced Technician Dron to touch the equipment in the first place.

How had Dron managed to botch the second attempt to sabotage the electrical equipment when the first attempt had been so nearly successful? A bit low on imagination, trying the same thing twice... or maybe not. A second accident with equipment already proven faulty... perhaps that had been quite subtle after all. But what was he, Orem, to do now? Unless he acted soon, it would be too late. No point in killing Spock when the damage had been done. Until the bond was declared, there was hope, for though snared, Kirk could still be redeemed... but once he had been claimed by the halfbreed...

Yet the difficulties were overwhelming. He had no technical skills, and though his position in Security might have given him an opportunity during a planet landing, Starbase Four, their next call, did not offer much promise. And their next planetfall was Vulcan itself... He shrank away from straight murder - the Vulcan was too popular - and Kirk, Orem realized, would be in no condition to try - or even want - to control an enraged crew. He couldn't even count on finding the Vulcan in his quarters; although they had retained separate cabins, Captain and First Officer used both indiscriminately, and off-duty were seldom apart.

He became aware of someone sitting down opposite him, and made the effort to look up. The Chief Engineer was facing him, a grim expression an his face. "You knew Technician Dron, didn't you?" It was not a question.

"Slightly," Orem acknowledged. "We were of the same faith, nothing more."

"Aye, Faith. It was you, wasn't it, that said a while back that we should petition to get Spock off the ship because he should be serving on the Intrepid?"

"Yes, I did say that. Members of different races should not mingle indiscriminately... "

"But Spock's just as much Human as he is Vulcan," Scott pointed out.

Orem could no more prevent the look of disgust that crossed his face than he could have reversed the flow of time single-handedly. He controlled himself sufficiently to say," He considers himself Vulcan."

"Aye, so he does. In fact, you wouldna' realize he's half Human unless you knew it." The Scot sounded speculative.

"Perhaps. But we do know."

"And you find that hard to swallow?" Scott wondered. "Of course you do."

"He would lead the captain into sinful ways!" He realized belatedly that his voice was rising, and made a conscious effort to contain himself.

"I havena' noticed the captain being that easy to lead," Scotty remarked drily. "Except where he wants to go, of course. Tell me, Lieutenant, this faith of yours... I'm curious. What is its teaching on morality?"

"Sir?" Orem swallowed with difficulty.

"Which - in your view - is the greater morality: to bind yourself to a woman who had done nothing but look pretty, that you're attracted to, but who can know nothing of the man you are... or to a man you love, a man who has risked his life, honour, career for your sake?"

"It is not natural for two men - "

"Perhaps not. But forget the sexual angle for a minute. Who's a man more likely to love, respect, trust and want by his side: a stranger, someone he hardly knows? Or someone who has done everything to prove his loyalty and love over several years? To which would you trust your future?"

Honesty compelled Orem to admit, "The one I know."

"And if that one is another man, and the stranger is the socially-acceptable woman? If, in addition, the man is a member of an alien race? Does that make him less trustworthy, less deserving of love and respect?"

"It does not alter the fact that the one to marry... must be the woman."

"Would you respect the man who did? Who committed his life to someone he didn't love, ignoring the one he did love? Who used a woman so selfishly? Would you call that admirable?"

"It is God's law." Half trapped, Orem retreated into religious dogma.

"If that's what your god decrees, I want none of him," Scotty said disgustedly. His accent became more pronounced as he continued. "I ken fine that Dron was sick wi' worry, laddie, an' tryin' tae kill Mister Spock. Unfortunately. But ye'd best bear in mind that I'll be watchin'. If ye put one foot wrong before we reach Vulcan, ye'll no live tae see the place. I canna prove that you set poor Dron tae killin' Mister Spock - but I've got my suspicions all the same. I ken how tae arrange a wee 'accident' myself... and laddie... if ye're wise, ye'll ask for a transfer - usin' whatever excuse ye want... "

Orem continued to stare at the empty chair, his face pale. A transfer was impossible, forbidden by the Brotherhood's laws. He must kill Spock or die in the attempt. If he simply transferred, the Brotherhood would take action against him at once. Oh, they would let him live... disgraced, outcast, their influence making sure that he never again had a decent job. His family, fanatical believers, would cast him aside... and his own soul would be lost forever if fear turned him from the path of duty. Yet, with the vengeful Scott on the alert, it would be even more difficult...

Finally, Orem rose and stumbled from the room, heading for the turbolift and the ship's chapel where he could pray for guidance undisturbed. Guidance from God for murder... Orem never saw the irony.

 

***

 

The stopover at Starbase Four was very brief, just long enough to transfer those crew members - among them Christine Chapel - who were heading for new assignments in this sector, and to permit a few hours ashore for those who wished to shop. Strangely, Spock had requested permission to beam down, and Kirk had let him go, for there was something the human wished to do.

Alone in his cabin, he sat down on his bed; spread around him were souvenirs of his past life, mementos of the women he had loved, women who had loved him. Gently, he lifted each in turn, examining it, bidding farewell to the memories each token evoked from him before laying it carefully aside in a small box that stood waiting.

A flame-flower from the shore-leave planet, with its memories of Ruth; a cellulose casting, it had not faded as a real flower would have done; but the memories it called forth were distant, for the Ruth who had given it to him had been the reflection of his own mind, not the reality of the young girl he had once known.

Two slips of cardboard, cinema tickets from an age long past; never used, for she who had bought them had died that same night, crushed beneath the relentless demands of duty. Edith... the dearest of all his loves... Yet he wondered now if he would one day have turned even from her to seek the dark eyes, the fiercely-passionate love that claimed him now...

His eyes were very gentle as a bead-worked hairband slid through his fingers. Miramanee, who had loved her god in the shape of a man, and who had died believing in him. That love had been doomed from the beginning, for what place could she have found in her husband's reality? Thank whatever gods there were that she had been mistaken about the child... She had asked for nothing, except to love him... No, he would never forget Miramanee.

He would never father children now, never know if he could, and for a moment his male pride knew a moment of regret - then he admitted honestly that his desire for a son of his own flesh was for the most part - or had been - an unspoken wish for proof of his virility. What could he, the star-traveller - offer to a child? Only years of distant fatherhood punctuated by fleeting visits. There was no place for family life on a starship, and he would have bitterly resented being tied to a shore posting. The hairband joined the other mementos, as Miramanee joined his other ghosts.

There were letters, photographs, trinkets... sometimes he found it difficult to attach a name to each. Yet they had given him pleasure, these women, and as he looked back over his life, Kirk was grateful for one thing. He had never stooped to deceit to gain his desires - even the most fleeting of his conquests had come aware and clear-eyed to his bed. While not ashamed of his behaviour - for in those days he owed Spock no fidelity - he could not help contrasting his own varied experiences with the Vulcan's almost total innocence.

Unless... there had been Leila... and Zarabeth. Spock had never spoken of them since, but Kirk wondered...

"Jim? What are you doing?" The quiet voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up, reminded once more that now, and for the rest of their lives, there were no barriers between him and Spock. He could go to the Vulcan as easily, as instinctively as he looked at his face in the mirror - as easily as Spock had come to him now - and know that he was welcome.

His eyes glowing, Kirk reached out an eager hand. "Come, and I'll show you."

Spock accepted the outstretched hand and sank onto the bed beside Kirk. The human indicated the box. A winged eyebrow soared as Spock recognized the contents, and he glanced inquiringly at his bondmate.

"Some memories I don't need any longer," the human explained softly. Freeing his hand, he closed the box and walked over to place it in the disposal unit. Then, taking a deep breath, he returned to Spock's side. "Now I am only yours," he murmured.

"Jim... " The Vulcan took Kirk's hand again and bent his head to study the palm intently; unable to resist, Kirk brought his free hand up to stroke the shining silky head bowed before him, and -

"Jim, I have no such mementos to destroy... and only a few memories... but I wish to give them into your keeping, lest they cause you distress."

"It's not necessary," Kirk whispered. "I'm... not jealous of your past loves, Spock."

"You are, for I am of yours," the Vulcan countered quietly. "T'Pring... was a political alliance, Jim, by our fathers' wishes. Through our partial link, she learned of... my... love for you; she wished to marry Stonn, but named you her champion, hoping I would kill you, for she could not endure that I should prefer another. She knew what would happen to me when I realized that... that I'd taken your life... as I almost did... " The deep voice trembled, and Kirk touched the thin shoulder in reassurance.

"She can't hurt us now, Spock," the human promised. "Don't think of her."

Spock nodded almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps you are right. Then there was Leila. I met her when I went to the Academy. I was... so alone, Jim, and it was all so strange to me. The quarrel with my father... and I'd never been off world alone before. She was kind, and gentle... an intelligent companion... but the day came when she wanted more than I could give. I thought she understood, but when we met again, the spores... she had never quite given up hope... "

"And so you went to her," Kirk deduced.

"No, Jim. The effect was strange... it made me as a child again... but a Human child... and children have no need of physical love. We laughed and played together. I kissed her, but without desire... and I did not... "

"Not a very terrible confession, beloved," Kirk said gently.

"There is more. Zarabeth... She was different, Jim. I became... as my ancestors, wild and uncontrolled. She, too, was alone, and she wanted me... I knew that I loved you by then, Jim, and my physical hunger matched hers... I am so ashamed. I thought, in my madness, to take her body and dream that I held you... " The brown eyes were soft with remembered pain. "I might have wronged her so, but McCoy was in time... then, I almost killed him. Yet now I am grateful for his intervention. It would have defiled my love for you to have committed such a crime."

"Oh, Spock." Kirk shook his head wonderingly. "You have so little to tell... and I have so much."

"It is all in the past, beloved. It is true that you may be tempted again, but we of Vulcan know well how to hold our mates. The fruit that seems sweet on the tree will be ashes in our mouths should we taste of it."

"As it was with the Warrior who tried to rape me?"

Spock remembered back on that event. "Not precisely. Then, you were unwilling. But even if you chose to try the experience, it would leave you unsatisfied."

"I suppose I might be curious sometimes," Kirk said slowly, "but I've never before had the satisfaction you give me. I can't imagine wanting anyone else now, Spock, but... Fidelity never seemed desperately important before. I sought only pleasure... but as your bondmate... I think temptation would be easy to resist. I don't think I could do anything that would hurt you - I know I couldn't."

Spock coloured, raising the hand he held to his lips. "Lo'chin, there is something I would ask of you. It is not important if you wish to refuse... but it would please me."

"What is its" Spock so seldom asked for anything...

"I would... adopt one of your Human customs, Jim. I visited Starbase Four to purchase... perhaps I should have asked your permission... you may not like them, or wish for such an obvious - "

"Spock, stop evading the point." Kirk was curious - and he knew his Vulcan. "What did you buy?" he asked with a gentle smile.

"These." The Vulcan placed a small box in Kirk's hand, then dropped his eyes shyly.

Puzzled, Kirk raised the lid and gazed down at two heavy gold rings. The outer surface was polished smooth, but inside the band their names had been delicately engraved.

"Spock, I never guessed that you wanted... " His voice was soft, but the Vulcan flinched at his words.

"Forgive me, Jim. It was only... I told you once that I am jealous of anyone who... looks at you. I thought... a marriage ring would discourage... But, of course, you would not wish to... "

"Be quiet, Spock!" Kirk reached forward and lifted the downbent head. "I'm pleased that you want to claim me openly - and you bought two rings, so that you'll just as clearly belong to me." He grinned happily. "We'll wear them proudly, Spock. I'd like that."

"Thank you, Jim - " Spock leaned forward and brushed Kirk's cheek with his lips. "It grows late; you should rest."

The two men prepared for bed in companionable silence, Kirk aware of a delighted happiness at the simple intimacy of sharing a bathroom with Spock. They had always done so, of course, but until their bonding, had been careful not to intrude on the other's privacy. Now there was the added delight of watching Spock as he stood in the shower, the drops of water glistening on the pale green jade of his body.

Later, as he snuggled into the Vulcan's comforting embrace, Kirk stirred, murmuring, "Spock, your parents - will they accept our bonding?"

"There is no reason why they should not," Spock replied after a moment's silence. "Male bonding has been honored since the time of the Warriors, and I have often heard Sarek speak of it with approval. My mother... I believe her primary concern will be for my happiness."

"Well, we'll soon know." Determinedly, Kirk closed his eyes and settled to sleep.

 

***

 

A few days out from Starbase Four, Kirk sat in the command chair, trying to analyze the air of anticipation that the crew seemed to share with him. They had all, it seemed, accepted his new relationship with Spock, and by all the evidence, they approved. Not that it was at all unusual - he knew for a fact that two of his top-rated security guards were lovers, and suspected the existence of several other male/male or female/female pairings, but... in this case, the novelty was that the warm, extrovert, very-Human captain had been the one to thaw out the unemotional Vulcan.

More than simple curiosity motivated the crew. Though he was unaware of it, Spock was greatly admired and respected by the men and women who served under him; all had seen the unfamiliar tenderness in the austere face, the almost dazed rapture in the glowing eyes, and were genuinely pleased that their lonely first officer had found happiness. As for Kirk... the captain seemed, to his loyal crew, to be filled with an electric, bubbling joy that communicated itself even to the most unobservant. His command ability had not diminished by a fraction, but he now seemed twice as alive, filled with vitality.

Not that there was anything you could put your finger on, the crew agreed among themselves. The two men never touched publicly, made no excuses to be alone. Their evenings were spent, as before, in the rec room - there was no slipping off into their private world. Old friends were welcome to join than, their duties were performed as efficiently as before, but...

It was observed that, if one was in a room and the other entered, however busy they might be, their eyes would lock for a brief instant. That Kirk, if asked, could say without pause for thought exactly where his first officer was at any given moment. That spoken commands seemed unnecessary between them - Kirk would turn toward the Science console, and immediately be presented with the data he had not yet requested.

The bridge was a good place to be these days, all agreed, and with a few exceptions, the novelty quickly wore off as the crew adjusted normally to the situation. Starfleet's reaction was an unknown quantity, however, Kirk brooded as he relaxed in his chair. True, the Federation was bound to respect the customs of member planets, and male bonding was an honored tradition, but still... And what of Sarek and Amanda? Would they accept him, or...

"Distress call, Captain!" Uhura's voice broke into his thoughts.

"On audio, Lieutenant!" Kirk turned his attention to the screen, his own concerns forgotten at once in the emergency.

"Administrator Ryland here. Any ship receiving this call please respond! Emergency... "

"This is the Enterprise, Captain James T. Kirk commanding. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"Thank God, Captain! Administrator Ryland of the Repick colony here. We need help, or the colony will be destroyed."

"Mister Chekov, lay in a course for Repick, full warp speed," Kirk directed. He was aware that Spock had left his station to stand at his elbow. "We're on our way, sir. Can you give us some details for my officers to work on until we reach you?"

"Or course, Captain." The man swallowed nervously, then continued. "There is a serious malfunction in our main generators, beyond the skill of our engineers to repair. They estimate some thirty-six hours before the situation becomes critical. If that happens, the resulting explosion could effectively destroy this entire planet."

"Transmit full details," Kirk ordered. "My science officer will tell you what he needs to know. When you're ready, Mister Spock, call the department heads to the briefing room. We'll do all we can, Administrator. Switching now to Science Station. Kirk out."

Spock was already in position, recording the transmitted data. Removing his tape when the communication ended, he joined Kirk at the turbolift as Sulu moved to take the con.

 

***

 

The air of tension in the briefing room was almost tangible as the situation on Repick became clearer. A stable, settled planet well within Federation space, it had no dangerous animal life, but its wealth of rare minerals had led to the establishment of a vast mining complex. As it was considered a safe posting, the miners' families had settled there, adding to the civilian population.

After consultation, Spock and Scott had agreed with the original estimate of a thirty-six hour safety period before the generator reached critical; they could not hope to evacuate more than a tiny fraction of the population, and there were no other ships within range. If the fault could not be corrected, thousands would die.

"Can the generator be repaired?" Kirk asked pointedly. "That seems to be the only hope."

"Mister Scott and I are agreed that it can." Spock indicated the tape on the table. "We estimate approximately eight hours' work will be involved to do so, however."

"And we'll reach Repick with eighteen hours in hand." Kirk sighed in relief. "That gives us plenty of time."

Spock was shaking his head. "The adjustment must be made within the generator itself. There will be intense radiation - anyone so exposed will only be able to tolerate limited exposure before irreversible damage is done. Though I would think it possible that repairs could be completed before the individual becomes incapable of functioning, it is, nonetheless, a risk."

"Who... " Kirk cleared his throat and tried again. "Who on board is capable of effecting the repairs?"

"There are two so qualified." Why wouldn't Spock meet his eyes? "Mister Scott - and myself."

"An' wi' respect, Ah'm the one to go," Scotty said firmly. "Ah've had the experience wi' that type o' generator."

"Scotty, no!" McCoy burst out. "Three hours is the maximum safe exposure for a Human - and you told me yourself that you'd need at least twice that long."

"Which I, of course, am perfectly capable of withstanding," Spock pointed out mildly.

"But... " McCoy looked grim.

"Gentlemen, please! Mister Spock, Mister Scott, Doctor McCoy - please remain.  The rest of you, dismissed." As the door slid shut leaving Kirk facing his three determined officers, he looked up. "I'll hear your arguments in turn. Mister Scott."

"As I said, I have experience with that type o' generator." As usual under stress, Scotty's accent had all but vanished. "I accept the certainty of radiation poisoning - not even with his greater tolerance can Mister Spock guarantee that he'll be finished before his own limit runs out. As first officer of this ship, he is more valuable and less expendable. And," he pointed out logically, "if I should be unable to complete the repairs, you'll still have him in reserve."

"Mister Spock?"

"The repairs, once begun, must be completed without interruption. I am confident that I can do so before I become unable to function. The mind as well as the body will be affected by radiation - I am far more capable of controlling such effects than Mister Scott. Should I fail, it will be necessary to evacuate as many of the population as possible - you will need your Chief Engineer to keep a grossly overloaded ship functioning. Engines, environmental control, life support, will all be under considerable strain."

"Doctor McCoy?" Kirk asked. "Your comments?"

"I hate to agree with Spock," the doctor began, "but medically speaking, he's a better risk than Scotty. He has greater natural tolerance, he's younger, stronger... "

Kirk swallowed with considerable difficulty. "Thank you. Gentlemen, you are dismissed. I will notify you of my decision." He noticed McCoy squirming from the corner of his eye. "Yes, Doctor-?"

McCoy, who had opened his mouth to speak, shook his head and left with the others. Kirk drew a deep breath and settled back in his chair

 

***

 

A command decision. As it had been with the amoeba creature. Spock... or Scott this time. Kirk pressed his hands over his eyes, shutting out the terrified something that gibbered in his mind, telling him to send Scott, fighting the instinctive, blind urge to find his lover, cling to him, hold him safe until this danger was over.

Which should it be? Scotty had offered to go, and he did have the experience. Both men, in their different ways, were vital to the ship... but Spock was necessary to him.

Gradually, the old habit of command reasserted itself, and Kirk found himself forced to consider his alternatives. Leaving aside actual experience, both men were capable of the task. Spock had the greater resistance, and his mental abilities would keep him functioning longer than Scott would be able to do.

As before, the answer was so obvious. But... then he had sent his friend to what seemed certain death... now he must risk his lover, his bondmate... Abruptly, he rose and strode from the room, heading for the turbolift. He should have reconvened the briefing, he supposed, but he would permit himself the indulgence of telling Spock privately.

The door opened at his whispered request, and he stepped into the warm room. Dark eyes met his, a question in their velvet depths, and he forced himself to speak. "Spock, I'm sorry... it has to be you... "

A strong, supporting arm slid around his waist. "I know," Spock said calmly. "You could not permit our relationship to blind you to what must be done - "

For a moment, Kirk leaned against the firm body, resting his head on Spock's shoulder; then he pulled back far enough to meet the gentle, concerned eyes. "I was remembering how it was when I had to choose between you and McCoy," he began slowly. "How it felt when I thought you were dead... and then I remembered something else."

"And what was that?" A loving hand brushed the human's face.

"How much I dreaded... being alone. But this time... you can't leave me behind. We're bonded, so... if anything happens... we'll be together, Spock. Promise me - if there's any danger, you'll reach for me - take me with you."

"I promise," Spock whispered. His arms tightened, drawing the human close. "When I argued to go, I was aware of the risk to you if I fail; yet it seems to me, Jim, that we cannot permit the fact that danger will threaten us both equally in the future to blind us to duty. Am I wrong? Perhaps I should attempt to break our bond, set you free - "

"That would be cruel," Kirk murmured against the Vulcan's ear, "as well as impossible. I'd lose everything then, Spock. Don't make me a coward. I can't buy your life at the price of a world, but it's easier letting you go like this, knowing I'll still be with you."

"And I will know that my success buys you life," Spock replied a little unsteadily. He held the human a moment longer, then slowly pulled away. "Come - we still have much to do."

 

***

 

The next few hours were busy, crowded, with time for nothing more than a fleeting touch of hands in passing, or a momentary exchange of glances. There were arrangements to be made in case Spock failed. The children, and most of the women, could be saved, but the ship would be desperately over-crowded. Kirk supervised the arrangements, concentrating his attention on small details in an effort to avoid thinking of Spock, who was so calmly making his own preparations.

So successful was Kirk that Sulu's announcement of orbit status around Repick took him by surprise. With a word of explanation to McCoy, he left the shuttlecraft hangar, which was being turned into a vast dormitory, and went directly to his quarters where he knew Spock was waiting. He was owed this - he would not be cheated of his private farewell.

Their parting was brief and simple; he clung avidly to Spock, savouring the taste of the delicious mouth before reluctantly pulling away. The powerful arms tightened at his withdrawal, then relaxed.

"Nothing to say is there?" Kirk whispered. "Only... come back to me."

McCoy broke into a run as they emerged from Kirk's quarters. "Thought you'd already gone," he said to Spock as he fell into step beside them. He couldn't hide his own concern either.

Spock's dark eyes flickered briefly to the doctor's face. "You will be with Jim?"

"I'll take care of him," McCoy promised, praying it wouldn't come to that.

 

***

 

In the transporter room, Scotty presided over the controls, checking and re-checking the settings. A red-shirted lieutenant from Security hurried in, approaching Spock.

"Your communicator, sir. Miss Uhura says to tell you she'll be listening for your signal."

Spock nodded dismissal, then noted Kirk's inquiring glance. "The generator is shielded," he explained, "and a communicator signal would not normally pass through that shielding. Lieutenant Uhura has improvised an effective system to overcome the difficulty."

"I see," Kirk murmured disjointedly. "Scotty, can you keep the transporter locked onto Spock at all times?"

The engineer shook his head negatively. "I canna' do that, sir. The beam would distort as soon as he moved, and the sensors couldna' locate him through the distortion. We have tae rely on his signal to locate him and beam him up."

McCoy stepped forward. "Spock... remember that eight hours is the maximum you can tolerate before the exposure becomes fatal. Then you signal to be brought aboard and we start the evacuation. Eight hours," he warned. "No more."

"With what safety margin?" Kirk demanded.

"None," was the stark reply.

"Jim... " The Vulcan turned Kirk aside and lowered his voice. "You know that, even if it takes longer, I must remain."

"I know," Kirk admitted painfully. "There's nothing else you can do."

"If I am still on the surface in eight hours' time, I advise you to confide in McCoy. There may be some physical symptoms... he will be able to help you."

"But you'll be... with me?"

"I will," Spock promised. "There will be no pain, no fear, I promise you. We will be together always, Jim."

Kirk's eyes closed. "Take care, Lo'chin," he whispered, and with a faint answering smile of reassurance, Spock moved to the transporter platform.

Kirk joined Scotty at the controls, and as the beam took him, Spock kept his eyes fixed on his bondmate's serene face.

 

***

 

Scotty had beamed him directly to the generator complex. Spock reported his safe arrival, and felt a ridiculous surge of happiness when it was Kirk's beloved voice that answered his signal. Firmly, he pushed to the back of his mind the realization that, if he failed, Kirk's life was also forfeit; it was to be... regretted, but he had looked into the human's mind, and what he had seen there had forbidden him to attempt a one-sided dissolution of the bond; he knew that his bondmate would welcome death rather than such an alternative.

 

***

 

On the ship, Kirk turned to the door. "Now we wait," he said quietly.

And worry, McCoy added silently, but he was puzzled. Though Kirk was obviously deeply troubled, he was exhibiting far less distress than he had shown on previous occasions when Spock was in danger. They parted at the lift, Kirk heading for the bridge, McCoy for Sickbay. In the privacy of the car, Kirk relaxed a little, thankful that it had not yet dawned on McCoy that the bonding link placed him in the same danger as Spock.

No point in him worrying about both of us, he thought. I'll tell him when - if - I must.

 

***

 

It was very quiet on the bridge as Spock's deadline drew inexorably nearer. No one was making any pretence at detachment; all were only too well aware of the time.

Kirk swung around in his chair as the turbolift doors parted, but it was only McCoy. Stupid to have expected...

"Any response, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir. Mister Spock does not acknowledge my signal."

"Are you sure you're getting through?" Kirk wondered hopefully. "The shielding... "

"I checked the communicator myself, sir," Uhura returned, her voice shaky.

"Perhaps he's just too busy to answer," McCoy offered. "Jim, it's getting close to time... "

"Don't you think I know that?" Kirk snapped, then clamped down firmly on his own emotions. "Sorry, Bones," he said gruffly after a moment. He snapped on the intercom. "Transporter room."

"Scott here."

"Any chance you can lock onto Spock without that signal?"

"Sorry, captain," came the fallen reply. "I wish I could. He's no' on his original coordinates, and without that signal, I canna locate him - "

"Kirk out." Wearily, he closed the channel and slumped back in his chair. Sulu's quiet voice announcing the expiration of the eight hour safety period was unnecessary; he had been counting the seconds in his head.

It was over, then, over before it had really begun. Their brief time of love and happiness counted only in a few precious weeks in Vulcan's past, and a few hurried days here on the ship. All that remained was to tell McCoy.

/Jim?/

/I am here.../ Spock had kept his promise, Kirk thought gratefully, had come to claim him...

/Jim, the repairs are complete. I have been signalling.../

/We aren't getting your call! Can you... Can you feed the coordinates to me, through the link?/

/I will try. Go to the transporter room./

"Mister Sulu," Kirk ordered, jumping to his feet, "take the con! Bones, come with me." Kirk was running to the lift as he spoke.

"What happened?" McCoy demanded.

"Spock... over the link... he's ready to beam up... "

After what seemed like years, they reached the transporter room where Kirk brushed a startled Scotty aside. Placing his hands on the controls, he concentrated, allowing the Vulcan to use his mind and hands to lay in the coordinates.

/Beam me up now... /

Please, Kirk prayed as he engaged the controls, please let me be in time. How long has it been? Minutes can't make ao much difference! Spock, please be all right - I want us to Uve!

As the shimmering column sparkled and coalesced to solidity, Kirk darted forward, one arm going around the slender waist as he supported the unsteady Vulcan.

McCoy's scanner whirred. "Sickbay - fast!" he snapped.

Ignoring the Vulcan's murmur of protest, Kirk tightened his grip. "Shut up and lean on me," he commanded. "Or do you want me to carry you?"

"That will not be necessary."

Privately, Kirk was not so certain. Spock remained on his feet and moving by sheer effort of will, and Kirk was sweating by the time he eased the Vulcan onto a Sickbay bed.

"Right, get yourself into my office and let me do my job," McCoy ordered. "You can use my intercom for any calls; I shouldn't be long, but I suppose you'll need to talk to Scotty."

"Thanks, Bones." Kirk touched the thin face on the bed with gentle fingers. "I'll be back soon," he promised.

McCoy waited until the door had closed behind him before he approached the bed, hypo in hand to relieve some of the pain. "Now, Commander," he said in the old familiar tone, "this isn't going to hurt a bit."

 

***

 

Kirk was turning from the intercom when McCoy entered his office, just over an hour later.

"He's fine and sleeping quietly," the doctor said, answering the question he read in Kirk's eyes. "The safe period was exceeded, but only by a few minutes."

"Can I see him?" Kirk asked.

"Sure," McCoy agreed, "but you look as though you could use a drink first." He moved to the cabinet, withdrew a flask and poured two drinks, handing a glass to Kirk. "How are things on Repick?" he wondered.

"Fine," Kirk provided. "Scotty's already gone down with a follow-up team. He says that the radiation levels are dropping steadily, but he wants to check for any further damage to the system. I've given orders to have the ship put to rights... That was a close call, Bones," he breathed heavily, draining his glass in the aftermath of the crisis.

"Talk about a last-minute rescue!" McCoy added. "If it hadn't been for your bonding link... We would have lost Spock for sure this time. Hey... wait a minute!"

"Mow what?" Kirk raised innocent eyes, suppressing a grin as he met McCoy's accusing glare.

"The bending link... I thought you were taking his danger a sight too calmly! Jim, would you... would you have died with him?"

"Yes," Kirk replied simply and without preamble. "It's all right, Bones," he added, noting the uncertain look in his friend's eyes. "You see, we were both afraid of being left behind, so... it's easier now."

"Easier, huh?"    McCoy sounded dubious. "Look, this time, it might not have mattered - at least not in the professional sense. Scotty could have coped with the ship. But... suppose one of you is killed during a run-in with the Klingons or something of that nature? We'd need one of you to pull the ship out of trouble - or at least make a reasonably good try."

Kirk rose, pacing the length of the office. "We've thought about all that; it was one of the things we discussed back on Vulcan, when we had to consider what the bond was going to mean to our lives. In that situation, the survivor could - would - make himself keep going until the danger was over, until it was safe to... let go. It'd hurt like hell, but it can be done. Then, when the emergency was over... well, there'd be no reason to go on living, would there?" Kirk laughed shakily as he moved toward the door. "Don't worry, Bones - it was my choice. I knew what the bonding entailed, and I still wanted him to take me in that way." He smiled wistfully. "Poor Spock - I didn't give him much of an opportunity to refuse." Reaching the door, he turned. "I'm going in to him now; just keep your staff out of there for ten minutes, will ya'?"

McCoy smiled, raising his glass in a toast.

 

***

 

Precisely ten minutes later, McCoy personally drove a protesting Jim Kirk from Sickbay.

"Just a few hours' observation," the doctor urged. "If you behave yourself and get out from under my feet, he can go back to his quarters tonight. Otherwise... I'll think of a reason to keep him here until we reach Vulcan."

Laughingly conceding defeat, Kirk beat a hasty retreat, leaving in search of Uhura. He found the communications officer studying Spock's communicator worriedly.

"I don't understand it, Captain," she began. "The communicator is working perfectly now. I'd thought, judging from what happened, that the power might have been drained somehow, but it's on full charge... and Mister Spock's first signal came through clearly enough."

"Perhaps," Kirk offered, "something Spock did down there increased the distortion temporarily, interfering with the signal?" His sentence ended questioningly.

Uhura shook her head. "I don't see how... but it's the only explanation. Sir, if I'm not being too inquisitive... how did you know that Mister Spock was ready to beam up?"

Kirk grinned, and felt himself colouring faintly. "That's partially how the bond works, Uhura. Oh, not all the time, but in moments of stress, or when we really need each other - my being human doesn't seem to have lost us that ability." He rose, his grin broadening. "If bonding with a Vulcan becomes more popular, Uhura," he said teasingly, "you'd be out of a job."

"Believe me, Captain - in this case, I wouldn't have minded," Uhura said quietly.

Kirk turned. "You spoke as though... you really are happy for me."

"I am, Captain," Uhura admitted. "You and Mister Spock... you fit, somehow. We all - most of the crew - feel that with both of you... content... this ship will run even more efficiently. And besides... " White teeth flashed a smile in response to Kirk's own, "Didn't you know, sir, that just about anybody is a sucker for a genuine romance?"

"Uhura!"

"Sir?"

"Nothing... just... thanks."

Still chuckling, Kirk turned and left, so buoyed up with relief and happiness that, as the door slid open for him, he could not help flashing a grin at the security guard who was just passing. His step was light as he made his way to the turbolift. I'll check with Scotty, he thought, clear up a few routine duties, then see if McCoy will let Spock out early. Better yet, I'll ask him to have dinner with us; that'll insure that he lets Spock out of Sickbay!

 

***

 

As he watched Kirk's retreating back, Lieutenant Orem breathed a sigh of relief. It had been risky, using his listening device in the open corridor, but no one had passed, and he had heard Kirk's footsteps in time to turn away. It had been an unexpected bonus that Uhura, requiring a messenger, had sent him to the transporter with the adapted communicator. Even for him, it had been a simple task to drain the power cells so that the first message announcing Spock's safe beam-down had exhausted the power.

Then, in the confusion of the halfbreed's return, he had been able to slip quietly into Sickbay amidst the turmoil, retrieve the communicator and recharge it. Not even Uhura could detect the interference; and even if Spock remembered that his power indicator had shown dead, there would be no proof. Kirk might believe him, but officially he would be said to be suffering from the effects of radiation, his mind confused.

At least Orem knew he was safe for a little longer. Kirk was convinced that the failure of Spock's communicator was accidental, and while Mister Scott was still down on the planet, there was nothing to arouse his suspicions.

It was only a postponement, however. Kirk was bound to mention the communicator to his chief engineer, and Scott would remember that he, Orem, had delivered it to the transporter room. While he might not have enough proof to accuse him openly, Orem had not forgotten Scotty's threat of an 'accident', and knowing the engineer's fierce loyalty to his friends, the threat had not been made idly. He had, at best, a few hours' grace before Scott returned to the ship; it simply had to be enough time to destroy the degenerate halfbreed before the captain became utterly corrupted.

Though no plan occurred to him, it soon began to seem to Orem that the Creator was indeed watching over him, protecting him until his self-imposed task had been completed. Only an hour later, he heard in the rec room that Mister Scott had elected to remain on Repick to oversee the installation of a complete new generator; he would then be conveyed by the fastest scoutship to Vulcan to rejoin the ship... but it would buy some time.

Scott had evidently not mentioned his suspicions to Kirk; perhaps in all the excitement and confusion, he'd simply forgotten. At any rate, Orem now had a few extra days. It gradually became clear to him that direct and open murder was the only way, with only one proviso - the Brotherhood must not be implicated in any way. He would kill, then arrange to disappear; a deranged security guard who, for reasons unknown, had run amok and slain the first officer.

They would soon reach Vulcan; there was an Elder of the Brotherhood on the staff of the Starbase there, and in the confusion that would inevitably follow Spock's death, he was sure he would be able to beam down, ask for help, and know that it would be freely given. A new name, a new face, a new career... but he would have served the Brotherhood well. Perhaps he would even be allowed to return to Earth, be given a high place on the Council of Elders... It must surely be worth much, Orem decided, to have saved a human soul from eternal enslavement.

 

***

 

Kirk tossed the last completed tape to the side of his desk, pushed his chair back, and sighed contentedly. The last of the routine reports completed, only a very short time now until they reached Vulcan, then...

A familiar apprehension twisted his stomach. Sarek and Amanda. For Spock's sake, he hoped they would accept him. He had been assured that male bonding was honored on Vulcan, and Sarek, whatever his personal feelings, would probably honourable his son's choice. But Amanda...

Spock was his in all ways, nothing could change that, but Amanda, as any human mother would, must have hoped for grandchildren; would she now see Kirk as an interloper, depriving her of that consolation for the son she had lost to the stars? He would soon know...

Meanwhile, there was communication that he must share with Spock. Starfleet Command had appointed Commodore Mendez to inquire into the Vulcan's desertion; when he had stolen a shuttlecraft and fled to the Guardian's planet. It was routine, 'for-the-book' formality, and fortunately was scheduled to be held after their leave, but Spock should be told. Kirk left his quarters, heading for Spock's cabin.

 

***

 

Lieutenant Orem concluded his prayers and rose from his knees, his mind at last at peace; for his own soul's sake, no less than Kirk's, he must kill the halfbreed or die in the attempt. He crossed to the cupboard holding his personal possessions, and took from it the hand phaser he had stolen from supplies earlier, tucking it carefully, unobtrusively, out of sight.

At this time of day, the captain would be on the bridge, the halfbreed would probably either be in his cabin or in his office at the Science Lab. It would take the captain a few minutes to get to either once he sensed that something was wrong with his Vulcan, as he was reported to have done when Dron made his first, almost-successful attempt. During that few minutes, he could escape, beam down to the Starbase before the alarm was raised, and seek the help of the Brotherhood.

Orem moved briskly along the corridor, automatically responding when he passed anyone, as if he was on duty. He paused at the door of the science office.

Silence.

Because the room was empty, or because the halfbreed was busy? He buzzed firmly, his other hand gripping the phaser hidden at his waist.

There was no reply.

Chancing it, he went it. The room was indeed empty, and he retreated, disappointed. The first officer's quarters were more quickly reached from the bridge, but... it would have to do.

Orem paused again at the door to Spock's cabin, listening. From inside he heard a soft murmur, then laughter, almost completely muffled by the closed door. Only two people would be likely to be laughing in Spock's cabin - the captain or the chief medical officer. Frustrated, Orem moved on.

He hesitated at the corner, glancing back. The cabin door opened, and for a moment, he thought he would have his chance after all, as Kirk stopped in the doorway, looking into the room. Then, the halfbreed joined him, almost smiling; side by side, they moved to the turbolift, and Orem turned away.

Not yet... and time was running out. Had run out. The intercom sounded. "All hands; we are now in orbit around Vulcan."

They would beam down immediately, Orem guessed. He would not get another chance. He thought fleetingly of his failure, of the Brotherhood's displeasure, of Kirk's soul, ensnared forever in a web of foul perversion - and knew there was only one atonement he could make. With a final prayer, he quietly turned the phaser toward his own chest... and fired.

 

***

 

The news reached Kirk in the transporter room as he prepared to beam down. With a grimace of disappointment, he turned to Spock and moved to the intercom, where Uhura relayed the message of Lieutenant Orem's apparent suicide.

Kirk was stunned. Though suicides weren't unheard of on starships, it was the first one - other than Joe Tormolen {and that had been 'in the line of duty') - on board the Enterprise. He wondered fleetingly if it had had anything to do with the incidents on Repick, but... There had to be more facts before any real truth could be arrived at.

"There'll have to be an inquiry," he said, "but there's no need for both of us to remain on board, Spock. Go down and see your parents, and I'll join you in the morning. It'll be their last chance to have you to themselves - once we break the news to them, the cat'll be among the pigeons with a vengeance."

"Are you certain, Jim?" Spock asked, equally as concerned as Kirk over the death of a crewman. "I can easily remain - "

"No, no," Kirk said with a shake of his head. "Make my apologies. They're expecting you, and I wouldn't want both of us to be delayed."

"Until tomorrow, then," Spock said quietly, and Kirk smiled.

"Until tomorrow, Spock."

 

***

 

An off-duty crewman passing Kirk's door late that night paused for a moment, convinced that he had heard something, then shrugged and hurried on, assuming, since the sound was not repeated, that he had been mistaken. Had he lingered a moment longer, or stepped closer to the door, he would have heard it again - a low, sobbing moaning, as though torn from the throat of a man in unendurable agony. Such sounds from such a quarter would have required investigation - which could have proven awkward - for Kirk was sobbing and trembling and panting in the telepathic grip of his bondmate.

The inquiry into the death of Security Lieutenant Orem had concluded with the unsatisfactory verdict, 'Suicide: Reason Unknown'. The man had left no note, had not seemed to have any personal troubles... Kirk had drafted a difficult message to the man's family, and had tried not to resent the fact that, by his action, Orem had extended by another day the period of uncertainty as to whether or not he would be accepted by Spock's family. There had been something peculiar about Orem for awhile, but... Kirk knew he had to let it go and hope that, one day, he might find the answers.

The formalities over, Kirk had sat talking with McCoy until late, then stripped, showered, and went naked to bed, where he lay too tense to sleep. Filled with sudden loneliness as the events of the past few days closed in on him, he could not resist the temptation to reach out with his thoughts and seek the mind which was now a part of his own.

Spock must have been searching for him, too, for their thoughts met and entwined lovingly in a passionate communication which transcended words. For a time, they were simply together, sharing the events of the day; Kirk stretched and relaxed, gradually feeling the tension ease out of him, and unbidden, his thoughts began to dwell on the pleasure he had found with Spock.

After a few moments, Kirk became aware of physical changes within his body, while at the same time, the most incredible sensations flooded him. His skin flushed, his breathing became deeper, slowly, the blood sang in his veins, and with amazement, he saw his nipples become gradually erect at the touch of an invisible hand.

/Spock!/ The thought was almost gasped. What one you doing to me?

Soft laughter rang triumphantly in his mind. /I am making love to you, Jim... as you were wishing I would... /

/How how can you... ? Oh, God!/

Had he not had the evidence of his own eyes, Kirk would have believed that the Vulcan must surely be here with him; how could a mental caress produce such an intensely physical response? His breathing deepened, and he moaned aloud at the sensations being inflicted upon him, feeling his organ stir and quiver under the stimulation. His hands flew to his chest, to his belly; so intense was that phantom touch that he almost expected to encounter the slender fingers he knew so well. Then, with a languorous sigh, he reached for his now fully erect organ, only to be stopped by a mental command.

/No, Jim... Lie still... I will do all that is... necessary./

Kirk groaned and allowed his arms to fall to his sides as he settled back, obedient to his companion's wishes. /How are you doing this?/ he wondered incredulously.

/The scientific explanation is somewhat... Less satisfying than the actual results, however... Direct stimulation of the pleasure centre of your brain. I know you so well now, we are so closely attuned, that I can reverse the normal sequence; instead of the physical stimulation producing the pleasure, the pleasure is generating the physical sensation./

/It seems unfair... I can't do that to you... /

/But you are, Jim. As our minds are linked, so are our bodies. Whatever I do to you, I feel its echoes in my own body. I am pleased to have achieved this so soon and with patience, you twill be able to initiate the process. It will not be a full love-making as we have known it, but I believe it can bring you pleasure... /

/Oh, yes!/ Kirk's mind sighed, lost to the waves of desire that swept over him. The tormenting stimulation went on and on, driving him to an ecstasy that was almost painful in its intensity. He quivered and moaned, longing for release, but Spock would not relax his control of the human. Kirk writhed helplessly, teeth buried in his lower lip. He was dying, he thought vaguely; Spock was determined to kill him with sheer pleasure... he could endure no longer...

/Spock, please! Release me.../

/Only if you beg,/ came the soft mind-laughter.

/Please... I can't... I'll do anything... just release me... I beg you, Spock!/ It was never difficult to beg the Vulcan, for he knew Spock would do the same.

At once, the control was withdrawn, and Kirk's body arched convulsively to the long-delayed orgasm. Spent, he lay back on his pillows, too exhausted to move, aware that Spock was watching him through the mind-link, pleased with the results he had achieved.

/You smug, self-satisfied bastard!/ Kirk thought lovingly as he levered himself off the bed and headed, somewhat unsteadily, to the shower.

Clean and refreshed, he returned to the bed and cuddled down sleepily, settling into the warm haven of Spock's mind.

/At least I have ensured that you are now tired enough to sleep,/ the Vulcan remarked. /You will be rested for tomorrow./

There was no reply; Kirk was sound asleep.

 

***

 

The following morning, McCoy beamed down with Kirk to the garden of Sarek's home, where Spock was already waiting to greet them, leading them to where his parents were waiting. As they entered the house, McCoy whispered in an undertone, "Spock, do you want me to get lost for a few minutes - until you've broken the news to them?"

"Thank you, but no, Doctor," Spock replied. "Since you will stand witness for Jim, it is right that you should be present."

Amanda offered her usual warm welcome; Sarek was more restrained, but seemed genuinely pleased to see them. They were taken into the pleasant garden room for the customary refreshments offered to guests, and McCoy found himself in conversation with Sarek while, a few feet away, Amanda chatted animatedly to Kirk.

After a few moments, Spock set his glass on the table, and rose to his feet. Vulcan dress suited him, McCoy thought idly; he looked more than usually alien in the black and gold tunic and trousers, an impressive, commanding figure.

"My father, mother, hear me - " The quiet voice fell clearly into a lull in the conversation. "I have a request to make of you."

"Yes, my son?" Sarek asked.

"I request that arrangements be made for my bonding."

"Spock!"

At Amanda's stricken cry, Spock gave a faint, reassuring smile. "Do not be concerned, Mother, I am in no danger of... pon farr. And my chosen mate is ready to bond with me; there will be no challenge this time." It was suddenly easy, knowing Kirk was with him, feeling the unspoken support radiating from his companion.

"May we know the identity of your wife?" Sarek inquired politely.

"Not 'wife', Father; Lo'chin." Spock turned, and McCoy, catching sight of the Vulcan's face, was stunned at the revealing tenderness in his eyes as he extended beckoning hands. "I present to you my chosen one - James Kirk."

McCoy satisfied a long-cherished ambition at that moment, as he saw astonishment written clearly on Sarek's face.

In the silence which followed, Kirk stepped to Spock's side, taking his hand with an air of supreme confidence; the human stood, half-smiling, his eyes fixed on his bondmate with tender watchfulness, and Spock's gaze was almost a caress, the devotion that linked them a tangible aura in the room.

"Spock... I... I am at a loss... " Sarek made a visible effort to pull himself together. "How can this be?"

"Recently, I made use of the Guardian of Forever to visit pre-Reform Vulcan - " It was clear to McCoy that Spock was giving his parents time to recover from the shock of his announcement. "While there, I became involved with a band of Warriors, and to conceal my identity I was obliged to join them."

"An interesting experience." Sarek's voice was almost back to normal.     "And useful - much knowledge of the Warriors' way of life has been lost; you should be able to answer many questions."

"Indeed. For... several reasons... Jim followed me into the past. I... suffered a personal crisis... and I... I was forced to acknowledge a truth which had been too long hidden. Jim and I took the Warriors' oath together. We are bonded, and wish now to affirm our union according to modern custom."

At last, Sarek moved. "You are aware of the implications of the request?" he said. "You, in particular, Captain. Do you fully realize that there can be no question of keeping such a union secret?"

"I have already informed my crew," Kirk responded firmly, "and I have made application to Starfleet Command to have the bonding entered into our service records so we can be assured to being posted together on personal grounds."

"Male bonding is, of course, recognized and honored on Vulcan," Sarek continued, "but to my knowledge, it has never been done with a human. However, Spock is now an adult, and is capable of choosing his own bondmate. I - "

"Sarek! What are you saying?" Amanda surged up from her chair, catching her husband's arm. "You cannot mean to give consent! I won't let you!"

"Our consent is not required, my wife," Sarek pointed out logically. "Spock and James are fully of age."

"Then you must tell him that you do not approve. Spock will not defy you again - "

"I do not understand, my wife." Sarek sounded puzzled. "I thought that you had always liked James."

"As Spock's friend, I do," Amanda agreed. "But as his bondmate... Jim!" She turned impulsively to Kirk. "Please - for both your sakes - forget this insane idea! You know it's only another of your infatuations; sooner or later, you'll want your freedom, and try to break the bond. So many women... and none of them could hold you... I know your reputation; what makes you think you can be faithful now? Spock is a man - no, a Vulcan male - you won't be able to live with this relationship for long. Get out now, before you hurt each other beyond forgiveness."

"I can't, Amanda." Kirk looked at her, willing her to understand. "There's a lot of truth in what you say; I can't blame you for doubting my sincerity... but I can give Spock everything he needs - "

"Can you? Can you give him a tranquil home, a future to build on? Can you give him acceptance by his people and yours? His life... bonded to you, he'll die a young man, tied by loyalty to an aging lover. And, Jim - can you give him children?"

"You know that I can't," Kirk answered painfully, "but I can give him loyalty and companionship. With me, he's free to live and laugh, to even be human if he wishes... and I can give him... my love. Besides, it's already too late for second thoughts from either of us - I belong to him, and he to me."

"In what way?" Sarek interrupted, his eyes suddenly intent.

"We are already bonded, Father," Spock answered quietly. "I have been with Jim mentally and physically - and he has taken me as well."

"Then we must consent, Amanda, and accept James," Sarek said firmly. "If they have anticipated the bonding ceremony, it would bring shame on our house to deny James recognition." His voice softened. "Amanda... you told me once to trust our son's judgment; I did not, and I was wrong. I cannot believe that Spock is unaware of the possible consequences of his action, and we must accept his choice. Spock... " Sarek turned to his son. "I accept your chosen bondmate, and bid him welcome to our house. May you live long in unity."

"Thank you, Father," Spock acknowledged with a slight bow of the dark head. "Mother. Will you not also wish us well?"

Amanda met her son's eyes in a moment of silent understanding. "You know that I do, Spock," she admitted. "Be happy - and may neither of you live to regret this day."

"We will not," Kirk said determinedly. "I'll prove myself worthy, Amanda."

"You already have," Spock reminded him with a quiet murmur.

 

***

 

The few days required for preparation sped past almost unnoticed as Kirk and Spock spent most of the time with Vulcan's most distinguished historians, recounting in detail all they could remember of the life of the Warriors. Great interest was aroused by their account of the Oath-taking, details of which had been lost for centuries, so that now the Lo'chin bonding was an adaption of a male/female marriage ceremony. Spock explained that he had picked from the Leader's mind details of what was expected, and fed that information to Kirk so that he responded correctly.

Kirk supplied much that was of interest with his account of the training and duties of a lorath, and secretly enjoyed the reactions of his questioners to much of what he said- To this generation, the coercion of one individual by another was abhorrent. They stared in blank incomprehension when he informed them that many of the loraths - those who were treasured by their masters - seemed perfectly content with their lot.

The Warleader, Seron, was indeed known to history, they discovered; named when he was unveiled after death, he proved to be the leader responsible for finally subduing the barbaric mountain tribes after years of attempts. Mention was made of his Companion, who had once been a lorath - Spock, on expressing satisfaction that the youth he had won in combat had found a good master, discovered to his pleasure that his bondmate was not above certain delightful jealousy; Kirk had not forgotten the adoring look the youth had given Spock on the dueling ground. There was even, in an ancient record, mention of 'Sevor the Mute and his family', and both men were delighted with this confirmation that their loyal servant had indeed found the future he had hoped for.

Exhaustive checks indicated that there had been no cultural contamination; when the researchers left at last to correlate and digest their notes, it was with earnest thanks for this wealth of new information. Kirk and Spock, for the most part, breathed a sigh of relief at their departure, then turned to one another with the delighted realization that the following day would see them formally united in the eyes of Vulcan.

Kirk was restless and impatient. On his arrival, Amanda had automatically allocated him one of the guest rooms, and though she was now aware that he and Spock were lovers in the physical sense, her original opposition to the bonding made both Kirk and Spock uneasy at the idea of sleeping together in what was, after all, her home. Spock had promised that the problem would be alleviated after the ceremony, but Kirk found himself frustrated; the desire Spock had kindled over the link the night they reached Vulcan had only been exacerbated by the stolen kisses they exchanged when they walked in the gardens in the cool of the evening.

On the last night, Kirk clung to Spock with sudden intensity when they parted, lifting his mouth for another kiss.

"Jim? What troubles you?" A gentle hand cradled the back of his head.

"It's just... I'm nervous, Spock. Tomorrow... "

"But we are already bonded." Spock was puzzled.

"I know. But then - back in the past - that was just you and me, Spock.  And strangers who accepted us for what we were. Tomorrow is for Vulcan - and Starfleet... for people who know us, or at least know of us. This is our life now... together... but among others. If I were Vulcan, I'd know what to say, how to act... I want to be a proper bondmate to you, Spock."

"Lo'chin," the Vulcan corrected firmly.

"There's a difference?"

"Of course. It is a much rarer relationship for one thing. For another... Watch the faces tomorrow, Jim. My peers - though they will not admit it - will be too busy envying me to criticize you. Must I remind you again that you are not my wife? You are my equal, as free as I. Now I must bid you goodnight, my love." Strong hands cupped his face, and Kirk gazed up into the liquid eyes. "Tonight I will spend alone in meditation, as is customary; when I see you again, it will be to claim you... and to give myself to you."

Warm lips brushed Kirk's, pressed lightly on his closed eyelids, then with a final touch on his forehead, were gone. Kirk opened dazed eyes to find himself alone in the dimness of the garden; with a slow, reminiscent smile, he swung back toward the house.

 

***

 

In the morning, it was McCoy's insistent shaking that roused Kirk from a deep and dreamless sleep. Eager for the day to begin, he sprang from the bed and dressed hurriedly in the clothes he and Spock had chosen together the previous day. Though the ceremony would be recognized on any planet in the Federation, it was a Vulcan rite, and for that reason, Kirk had elected to wear Vulcan dress - trousers and a richly embroidered tunic in a heavy cream-coloured silky material that slid over his skin as though it were alive.

"Why the dagger?" McCoy asked curiously as Kirk attached an ornate knife to his belt, and his friend laughed.

"A traditional survival from long ago," Kirk explained. "Once, the bond wasn't formed until after the first mating; and in those days, if I displeased my bondmate, I was expected to kill myself and set him free. As this is a male bonding, Spock has one, too... but I don't think they'll be needed."

"I hope not," McCoy grunted. He felt as though his friend had taken one small but vital step which would inevitably lay a barrier across his life. From this bonding, there was no turning back - there hadn't been for days - but would things be the same... could they be the same... now that Jim was...

"Hey, I'm still here, you know," Kirk said, somehow sensing McCoy's thoughts. "It's still me, Jim Kirk. Spock isn't going to lock me up as his own private treasure; there'll still be time for us, Bones."

"Sorry, Jim," McCoy said, smiling sheepishly. His glance expressed what his suddenly gruff voice could not, and Kirk grinned in understanding.

"C'mon," Kirk said, "let's see about scaring up some breakfast. I'm starving."

 

***

 

He had hoped to catch a glimpse of Spock, but only Sarek and Amanda awaited them in the dining roan. The meal was eaten in near silence, then in the short time that remained before the ceremony, it was necessary to greet important guests. Kirk's head was soon full of names and faces as ambassadors, politicians, professors and others inclined their heads in acknowledgement and passed on.

Silence fell, and Kirk found himself looking up into a wise, impassive face. Instinct guided him, and he dropped to one knee.

"Greetings to thee, James Kirk." He would never forget that voice.

"Lady T'Pau."

"Rise, child." Obedient to her imperious glance, Kirk stepped a little aside with her. "So - thee has won. I am not displeased."

"You knew?"

"How could I not? All Spock's thoughts were of thee. Tradition is a hard master, and I its sworn servant, yet I cannot find it in me to regret this. Spock is valued on Vulcan; treasure thy Lo'chin, child, for he has much to give."

"I know that, My Lady. I will try to be worthy - "

"No more can be asked of thee. Ah - Sarek approaches to lead thee to thy bonding. Go thou in peace, son of Vulcan."

He had been accepted by T'Pau; Kirk had not dared hope for so much. He turned to follow Sarek, vaguely aware that McCoy had taken his place at his side, that Amanda, pale-faced, had joined her husband. It was time.

 

***

 

There were no bell-banners this time, Kirk noted abstractly as he stepped into the arena; symbolic of the female, they had no place in a Lo'chin bonding. The fire pit glowed red with heat, though, and where T'Pring had stood on that fateful day hung another gang, twin to the one which hung in its accustomed place. The stone walls were ringed with witnesses - evidence, Sarek had told him, of the importance given to male bonding in the complex culture.

Every nerve in Kirk's body tingled, glowing with the awareness of Spock's presence; he knew the exact moment his bondmate stepped onto the burning sand, and his eyes followed the slim, black-clad figure as Spock walked forward and struck the gong. Then he was moving, fighting the impulse to run forward; his gong sounded a triumphant answer as he accepted Spock's claim on him, and in turn demanded his own mate.

The dark eyes held him, drawing him closer, until they stood face to face in the centre of the arena. Lost in that fathomless gaze, he heard T'Pau's voice as though from a great distance.

"Here to declare the bonding of Lo'chin are Spock of Vulcan and James Kirk of Earth. Let all witness."

Their hands rose to each other's faces, fingers spread to feel for the link. Gently, their minds met, warmth spreading from the contact as they opened to each other fully, unaware that their joy spread an almost tangible aura around their still figures. Mind spoke to mind, heart to heart, as they repeated through the link the Warriors Oath. In the past, when mind-speech was not granted to all, it had been whispered only for the ears of the bondmate; in this modern day, even that intrusion of the physical was unnecessary. Unlike the Human marriage vow, which was recited aloud for all to hear, this greater commitment was made directly to the heart and mind of the bondmate, and Kirk felt gloriously proud, intensely humble, as he received and reaffirmed his unity with Spock.

Reluctantly, they stepped apart; Spock took Kirk's hand, turning. "James Kirk is my Lo'chin, of his will and mine. Let this be remembered."

In turn, Kirk took Spock's hand, repeating the claim. Sarek stepped forward, facing them.

"The existence of the bond must be verified."

Hands still linked, Kirk and Spock sank to one knee. T'Pau advanced to place a hand on the head of each. Her mental touch was light, delicate, but at her presence the silver radiance of the bond flared brightly, rejecting the presence of the intruder.

"The bond exists," T'Pau announced. "Spock and James are truly Lo'chin."

They rose, and McCoy was there, smiling warmly; on his extended palm lay two old rings. Kirk took one and glanced at the witnesses. "My Lo'chin has claimed me in the custom of his world," he said in careful Vulcan, "and now I claim him with a Human rite."

Lifting Spock's hand, he slid the ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand. Spock accepted the remaining ring, reaching for Kirk's hand; his fingers trembled slightly as he slid it into place.

A warm clasp steadied him as their two hands were caught between McCoy's. "Twice bound, be never parted," the doctor whispered. "Live long in unity." He stepped back and the Lo'chin bonding was complete.

 

***

 

At the conclusion of the ceremony, the guests and witnesses, led by Sarek and Amanda, returned to the house for the customary meal. Instead of following, Spock drew Kirk aside toward the Garden of Meditation.

"It is the custom," he explained, "for the newly bonded couple to spend a few moments in meditation as they accustom themselves to the bond."

"A wise precaution," Kirk murmured. "I remember how I felt when you first linked us... Spock, I'm so sorry that Amanda cannot accept our union... it must hurt you terribly. "

"A little," Spock admitted quietly, "but it would hurt me far more to lose you. However, you possess one very powerful weapon which will eventually reconcile her."

"And that is?" Kirk wondered.

A brief and very tender smile curved the Vulcan's lips for a moment. "The great joy you give me." Leaning forward, he brushed the human's mouth lightly. "Come... we had best go in now."

 

***

 

At the door of the great hall, Kirk paused, blinking in surprise. The room had been set out for a formal, traditional banquet - that he had expected. What he hadn't expected was the sheer number of people. At the far end of the room, on a raised dais, were the tables for the family, Sarek and Amanda to one side, T'Pau and her attendants to the other. Between them, an empty table awaited the arrival of the bonded pair. On a lower level, the guests sat in couples, and Kirk checked as he realized that custom was being strictly followed here; each woman, seated at the foot of the couch, was serving her husband from the small individual tables before eating herself. Only those not yet married were served by the attendants.

Kirk was unable to move as chaotic thoughts tumbled through his mind. I... can't! I'm a male, dammit! I can't wove Spock with such docility... Physically I'm the weaker partner... okay I know that... but I can't forget everything that I am... But if I don't serve him, Spock will be shamed, before his family. T'Pau... all of Vulcan... They'll say he can't control...

/There is no question of control./ Spock's thought expressed loving exasperation. /I have told you repeatedly - you are not my wife, but my Lo'chin, my bondmate and my equal. Do you think I would permit you to humble yourself in such a manner? Come./

In total trust, Kirk touched his hand to Spock's and moved with him through the room; as they passed, the guests greeted them with an inclination of the head, and the two responded in kind. Halfway down the room, the occupants of one couch looked up, and only with an effort did Kirk keep his face expressionless; the guests were Stonn and T'Pring. The man gave formal greeting, but Kirk met T'Pring's eyes for a moment, every nerve jerking taut as he read envy in her face before she politely dropped her gaze.

/She is merely Stonn's chattel, my gift to him,/ Spock explained. /She has not even the status his fighting for her would have bestowed. A Lo'chin is infinitely the superior of such as she; she envies your position. When I remember the anguish she caused us both, I do not find it in me to pity her. Stonn has not forgotten or forgiven the insult. He accepted her, but she will pay for the rest of her life./

/I can... almost... forgive her,/ Kirk replied. /She rejected you... and set you free for me... /

When they reached the dais, both met stopped to greet the occupants of the closest table. Set in the human fashion, it served a group Kirk had not realized he was hoping to see. They were all there; McCoy, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu... even Scotty, to bring the good wishes of the crew to their captain and first officer.

/Sarek arranged it,/ Spock told him, and Kirk flashed a look of gratitude at the impassive Vulcan.

Then he was climbing the steps to take his place at the vacant table. At once, he saw what Spock had meant; there was no couch, only two chairs set side by side. He took his place, and realized that Spock was serving him, carefully choosing the most tempting portions of food, and pouring wine into his goblet. It was as it had been in the Warriors' camp, he remembered; as a lorath, he had knelt to serve his master, but as mated Warriors, each had served the other. With a low happy chuckle he couldn't repress, he reached for Spock's plate and began to select the foods he knew his bondmate liked best.

 

***

 

The meal progressed, as was customary, in silence. Amanda, still deeply troubled, found herself glancing almost constantly at her son, thankfully aware that, from his place, he was not conscious of her scrutiny.

Spock was... quietly radiant, his dark eyes alight with an intensity of joy she had never seen there. His gaze rested on his companion's face with a brooding tenderness that must have been nakedly evident to anyone who watched as closely as she. Fortunately, no one did. At one point, both men reached for the same dish, their hands touching. Kirk coloured vividly, and Spock gave a brief smile of heartbreaking sweetness then, once more, both struggled to maintain a proper demeanor. Unconsciously Amanda sighed, looking away to meet Sarek's quizzical gaze.

"Are you reconciled, my wife?" he asked softly.

"I... don't know. I've never seen Spock so... happy. If only Jim can be faithful to him... "

"He has great loyalty, my wife," Sarek observed, "and having had the courage to commit himself openly... I think we need not fear for our son."

 

***

 

As time passed, Kirk gradually became aware of the way some of the men were looking at Spock - quick, fleeting glances filled with respect and something that could have been envy. He remembered his bondmate telling him to watch their attitude, and it puzzled him. Within moments, Spock was answering his unspoken question.

/They do envy me, Jim. Warrior bonding is rare now, but greatly respected when it occurs. Any man can acquire a wife; indeed, a wife is selected by parents' arrangement. But I, the halfbreed, the less-than-pure-Vulcan, have done what they could not; I have won a mate any Vulcan man would be proud to claim./

/But I'm Human,/ Kirk objected quietly.

/While you may perhaps be physically and telepathically not as strong, as you acknowledged earlier, you one still a Warrior, a Starship captain, a man of proven courage and strength. Such a man chose me as mate... and so they are envious. It is one case where they are unable to completely contain their emotions./

There was nothing Kirk could think of to say in answer, but the expression in his eyes as he filled Spock's goblet made the Vulcan drop his gaze shyly.

The interminable meal ended at last, and as the guests began to drift together in groups, Spock draw Kirk to his feet.

/Come. It is time for us to leave./

/You seem... anxious,/ Kirk teased.

/Indeed. Today I have been forced to share you with these others; now I wish to devote myself to my Lo'chin... and to claim his exclusive attention in return./

 

***

 

 

To Kirk's surprise, the Vulcan led him out into the garden instead of toward the wide stone staircase that led to the bedrooms on the upper floor.

"Where are we going?" Kirk asked curiously

"Home, Jim," Spock responded.

Intrigued, Kirk followed him to a tall hedge that he had always thought marked the boundaries of the garden. Spock unlocked a well-concealed door, and they passed through into a smaller version of the grounds they had left. Facing them, a low white building gleamed in the sunlight, and Kirk turned to his bondmate.

"The chalan," Spock explained. "The term does not translate precisely; it is the dwelling given to the oldest son of the household when he takes a mate. Not even Sarek will come here uninvited."

Together, they explored the simply but comfortably furnished dwelling, ending at last in the bedroom.

"Do you like it, Jim'"

"Yes," Kirk agreed quietly. "I can be happy here."

"Our new life... a life together, and a future for us. There has been enough death; here, life is ours."

Caught by the note of sadness in the Vulcan's voice, Kirk stepped closer. "Spock, are you still troubled by the deaths of the Warriors you killed? I know how you hate to take life... "

"The first was an accident; I would have spared him," Spock answered slowly. "I regret the end of a life at my hand, but I do not hold myself accountable. The second, however... " The dark eyes shadowed, and Spock reached out to clasp Kirk's waist. "He dared to lay hands on you. I could not risk... had I done nothing, it would have appeared that I did not value you, and any Warrior could have forced you without fearing punishment. It was necessary that I show you were a jealously-guarded lorath."

"But he said that no man challenged for a slave," Kirk remembered.

"He was partially correct. Usually, Warriors dueled for possession of a beautiful slave, but seldom to the death. Any Warrior of breeding would have accepted your refusal, come to me, and asked permission to use you. He chose, instead, to hake his pleasure without fearing the consequences.

"You will remember that he was one of those who actually used his slave that first night. I avenged the insult; he took the risk that I would. No, I do not regret his death, Jim, for it established you as a valued lorath, and your readiness to fight at my side made it possible for you to be trained as a Warrior. Also, though he did not know it, you were already my bondmate, and any Vulcan, even today, would be capable of violence at a threat to his mate. I am a Vulcan, it seems, though in many ways, I am more akin to my savage ancestors than to my peers - "

"Fortunately for me," Kirk purred as he insinuated himself into Spock's arms. "What the hell would I do with a cold fish like Stonn in my bed? And speaking of beds... "

Spock's grip tightened convulsively. "Come, then, my Warrior-Mate," he whispered hoarsely. "Come, my Lo'chin."

 

***

 

Two days later, it was time to return to the ship.

Amanda, bidding them farewell, smiled shakily as she asked them to return as soon as possible.

"Perhaps, by the time we come back, she'll be more accepting of the idea," Kirk suggested as they left the transporter room. "Time will prove to her that I intend to keep my vows, Spock."

"I believe you are correct, Jim," the Vulcan agreed. "After all, my mother does like you; she is merely concerned for my happiness and well-being."

Entering their living quarters, they found that Scotty had been busy

in their absence, and had followed their instructions faithfully. Spock had been anxious that Kirk should not sacrifice his independence, Kirk determined that Spock should have as close as he could provide to a Vulcan home; in the end, they had compromised.

Two doors, side by side in the corridor, led into two small offices which provided the necessary work space for the different duties of captain and first officer. Strictly functional, furnished as regulations demanded, this was all most of the crew would ever see of their senior officers' quarters. The offices opened onto a large day cabin, which also had access from the corridor. It blended Vulcan and Terran furnishings to perfection, reflecting both their cultures in a harmonious, welcoming atmosphere. Here Kirk and Spock could relax, receive their friends; there were simple facilities to accommodate the making of light meals should they wish to eat in private or entertain away from the rec rooms, and they could share, alone or in company, an easy, relaxed relationship.

Fellow officers, friends, lovers... the rooms reflected their lives now, Kirk thought as he wandered around, occasionally moving a cherished possession to a more favourable position. The officer might blend into the friend, the friend merge with the lover... but never, by the merest fraction, could the officer and the lover meet. It was necessary - and possible now. The frantic, nerve-wracking worry each had known when the other was endangered had been allayed by the silver thread of the bonding link, which would ensure that they would never be parted again.

"Like it?" Kirk asked, his eyes on Spock's face.

The Vulcan glanced around slowly. "The arrangements seem most satisfactory; but then, how could they not? I share these rooms with you."

Kirk stepped forward and wound his arms around his bondmate's neck. "Lo'chin," he murmured softly, "we both know that I've got to go on being captain... but always remember... the ship stops in those offices out there. Don't ever let me try to play 'Captain Kirk' in here."

"I would ask a promise of you in return, Jim - " Spock held his bondmate tightly. "You know I can be... possessive. If I ever appear to threaten your freedom... "

He was silenced by a cool finger laid an his lips. "You'll find I can be possessive, too," Kirk whispered unsteadily, "but I'll try not to be jealous."

"You know that I find your jealousy pleasing," the Vulcan confessed, causing Kirk to laugh.

"Wouldn't you like to... try out the bedroom?" the human asked, his voice low and seductive.

"The prospect is indeed tempting," Spock confessed, "but I believe we are due in the briefing room in forty-seven minutes for Mendez's inquiry into my... desertion. And though I find your present costume most becoming, I doubt that the Commodore has the sensitivity to appreciate your beauty."

"Then it's dress uniforms all around." Kirk sighed as he disengaged himself with considerable reluctance. "But, Spock... " From the bathroom door, he turned to smile wickedly. "Tonight, there will be no excuses accepted."

"Tonight, Jim, I shall not want an excuse," the Vulcan assured him softly.

 

***

 

"...seems to be, as expected, a mere formality, Captain Kirk." On the briefing room screen, Commodore Mendez withdrew from the recorder his taped copy of the evidence which had been submitted. "Doctor McCoy's testimony is clear enough - the Commander was disoriented and confused by his illness. You, Captain, have given evidence that he returned willingly and as soon as possible when given the opportunity to do so. I am satisfied that there is no case for a charge of desertion; this inquiry is now closed."

"Thank you, Commodore." Spock inclined his head, and Mendez shifted uneasily.

"There is another matter, however, Captain Kirk. I have here the registration of your... bonding to Commander Spock, and your request for permanent dependency posting. Starfleet Command has asked me to investigate - unofficially for the moment - if there is anything in that relationship which might interfere with your ability to command the Enterprise."

"I've been expecting this," Kirk said quietly. "Commodore, Starfleet accepts that married couples can serve together."

"Agreed. But you must admit, Captain, you are a special case - a precedent, if you like.     A Vulcan/Human bonding, and between males - "

"What do you wish to know, sir?" Spock interrupted. "We will answer any questions, provided they do not invade personal privacy."

"A sensible attitude, Commander," Mendez conceded. "First, is there any reason to suppose that this bonding has caused any major changes in your... attitudes?"

"I can answer that," McCoy broke in. "As their medical officer, that was the first thing I thought of, and I ran brain-scan and psychological tests on both men. There is no alteration; Captain Kirk and Mister Spock continue to function independently and at peak efficiency."

"I do not 'control' my Lo'chin, if that is what you would ask," Spock added.

Kirk shot the Vulcan a quick, startled glance, taken aback by the faintly amused tone in his bondmate's voice.

"I complete him," the Vulcan added, "as he does me - but on a personal level only. Our professional interaction remains unchanged."

"I see." Mendez shifted. "I intend no offense by this next question, gentlemen. Captain Kirk, can you be certain that your involvement with Commander Spock will not lead you to consider his welfare before that of your ship?"

"Yes, I can," Kirk answered positively. "When I had to consider who to send down to Repick, I chose Commander Spock, knowing that he was the most qualified for the job. I could have sent Mister Scott - and justified doing so - but neither Spock nor I will buy each others' safety at the price of other lives or our own honourable. No, Commodore, I could have kept him safe... but I sent him down... and will do so again if it ever becomes necessary."

"Is there anything else you wish to add?" Mendez asked presently, apparently satisfied with Kirk's explanation.

"Only this," Kirk replied. "The mental link between Commander Spock and myself increases our value to Starfleet."

Mendez seemed skeptical. "Can you prove that?" he wondered.

"Only by one example so far. The Commander's communicator failed on Repick; we could not locate him to beam him up. He was able to reach me through our bond-link, and relay his coordinates through to me accurately enough. You've said yourself, Commodore, that he's the best first officer in the fleet, and one of the finest scientists in the Federation. Without the bond-link, he'd be dead from radiation poisoning. For the future... there are many situations where a captain who can communicate directly with his first officer will have a distinct advantage."

Mendez nodded quietly. "True. Well, Captain Kirk, you've convinced me. I am also influenced by the fact that none of your crew have requested a transfer for that reason; clearly, they respect your choice. I will report that I see no risk to the efficiency of the Enterprise, and I have no doubt that the dependency postings will be automatically arranged." Mendez sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. "Well," he said with a smile, "now that that's over, Jim,"I'm pot sure what to say."

"How about 'Congratulations'?" Kirk replied with a grin.

 

***

 

Kirk locked the cabin door after the last of their guests, then padded back to where Spock was toying with the remains of the one drink he'd nursed all evening. Perching on the arm of the chair, he slid one arm around the Vulcan's shoulders, resting his cheek against the silky hair.

"Enjoy the evening, Spock?" he asked.

"At first," Spock admitted, "I was too nervous to 'enjoy' anything. I am not used to socializing. Vulcans do not make entertaining companions for Humans. But I do not wish you to lose your friends because of me... and later, I found it... most pleasant." He finished on a note of mild surprise.

Kirk laughed, hugging him closer. "They do like you. Scotty, Uhura and the rest - they want to be your friends if you'll give them a chance to know you better. You made a good beginning tonight; Scotty was so interested in what you were saying that he refused a drink - first time in known history! As for Chekov, if he'd gotten any closer to you, I might have started to wonder... " His voice teased, belying any real jealousy.

"He is young," Spock pointed out, "and I think still in need of guidance. If he remains on the Enterprise, I am certain that he will make an excellent Science Officer one day."

"Oh, he'll stay," Kirk predicted, "and with you as a teacher, he can't help but do well." He rubbed his cheek against Spock's then stood up. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll only be a few minutes. I just want to complete the day's log entry first."

Spock allowed his hand to rest for a moment on Kirk's arms. "I will await you."

 

***

 

When Kirk emerged from the bathroom, Spock was sitting on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes widening appreciatively at the sight of his bondmate. Kirk's golden skin glowed from the shower, his only covering a towel around the waist.

Drawn by the liquid eyes, Kirk moved over to stand beside the bed, shivering involuntarily as Spock slowly removed the towel and studied his naked body. The human leaned closer, cupping the intent face between his hands, and brushed the warm lips with his own. Then, pulling back, he considered Spock's reaction.

Spock's eyes turned upward, and were wide, soft with apprehension lurking in their velvet depths; Kirk nodded decisively, and sank down to kneel at his bondmate's feet, taking the slim hands in his own. "Spock, I want you to do something for me."

"I will, of course."

"Then stop cheating on me."

Both brows shot up under the Vulcan's bangs. "Jim, I have never - "

Kirk shook his head. "You have, my love, from the very first." He kissed the hands he held. "Did you think I wouldn't know? You've held back with me, you've been gentle and patient... now I want to know you, Spock. All of you, as you are, your passion as well as your love, your strength as well as your gentleness. I'm not fragile, you know - I won't crumble in your arms. Tonight... take me fully, Spock - until I can't respond again. I get tired, sometimes, of always being the one in command... it would... please me... to submit completely to you."

Spock seemed uncertain at first. "Are you... certain? I am afraid... I might hurt you... "

"Can't you understand?" Kirk persisted gently.    "I want to be totally free with you - not to have to pretend all the time that you're not stronger than I am." He placed his hands on Spock's thighs. "Let me show you that I mean it," he murmured hoarsely. Leaning forward, he lowered his head to Spock's groin, and begin to lick delicately at the Vulcan's erect organ, his tongue coaxing it higher until he could take the head into his mouth. He sucked avidly, using all his skill, willing Spock to accept his submission. Warm hands cupped his face, and for a moment, he feared Spock might push him away. Then the hands tightened, drawing him closer, and he felt a warm burst of liquid on his tongue.

Shaking with the intensity of his own emotion, Kirk pulled away a few moments later and looked up. The watchful eyes were bright with longing, and the human couldn't help noticing that another erection had already begun.

"Jim... it will be as you wish... I cannot refuse you."

"Good," Kirk breathed. He rose, and drew Spock down with him to the bed. "I was judged worthy to become a Warrior," he reminded his companion. "Now it seems that I must prove to you that I can be a satisfactory bondmate."

"Lo'chin," Spock corrected lazily, then was incapable of any further speech as Kirk's hungry mouth engulfed his.

In the silent darkness, their minds spoke for them, and they were together


End file.
